Friday, December 30, 2016

Another Mini-ecosystem

     For at least the last eleven years, a colony of scores of rough-winged swallows have wintered at the Northeast Philadelphia Sewage Treatment Plant near the Delaware River in Philadelphia.  It is the only gathering of wintering swallows in North America north of the Gulf of Mexico.  All other rough-wings winter on islands and mainlands around the Caribbean Sea and the rim of the Gulf of Mexico where flying insects are abundant and available during the northern winter.  That sewage treatment plant is a relatively warm habitat, a human-made mini-ecosystem in the cold of winter.  I have read reports of swallows at that plant in winter, but have not been there myself.  But it is intriguing to think of this unusual environment, and others like it.  And it is enlightening to realize how resilient nature is.
     The presence of rough-winged swallows and other kinds of small, insect-eating birds, including a few each of cave swallows, barn swallows, eastern phoebes and a few species of warblers, including palm warblers and yellow-rumped warblers, wintering at that sewage treatment plant, is based on swarms of a kind of insect called midges.  Adult midges are small, two-winged flies that fly about that sewage treatment plant in swarms and are eaten by those birds in winter. 
     Other kinds of small birds that might winter at Philadelphia's sewage plant to eat midges are tree swallows, pine warblers, orange-crowned warblers, common yellowthroat warblers and yellow-throated warblers.  A few of each one of these species already winter in the north, though most birds of each species winter in Central and/or South America. 
     But how can adult midges, being cold-blooded, be active and available to hungry birds in winter?  That depends on the warmth of sewage in underground treatment ponds.  Sewage water constantly flows from warm buildings through underground pipes to open-air sewage pools in the ground at the treatment plant.  Being in the insulating soil, the sewage water stays relatively warm and is a breeding ground for the midges that live at that sewage treatment facility.  As fast as the waste water cools, it is supplemented with warmer water that warms the air above it, and midges in that air.   
     Adult, flying midges don't eat anything.  They only live three to five days and there only job is to mate so female midges can spawn thousands of egg masses on the surface of sewage water.  But many adults are eaten by birds before they get to mate or spawn.  Midge eggs sink into the sewage and bloodworms hatch from them.  They are called bloodworms because they are red.
     Each bloodworm creates a protective case around itself and joins others of its kind in red, wriggling masses on the bottoms of tanks and their walls.  There those red midge larvae consume bacteria, and sewage, which is still loaded with nutrients.  Both the bacteria and sewage is suspended in the water and is, therefore, available to the bloodworms.  The bloodworms pupate and later emerge as adult, flying midges in great swarms that feed those insect-eating birds around Philadelphia's sewage plant in winter.  Bloodworms in more natural habitats feed fish and a host of other aquatic creatures. 
     Bacteria that bloodworms feed on ingest sewage.  We can see that new food chains developed in sewage treatment plants, which is based on human waste.   Sewage feeds bacteria, which is consumed by bloodworms that emerge from the waste water as adult, flying midges, many of which are eaten by small birds, some of which are eaten by small hawks and other critters.
     There are many kinds of adaptable plants and animals.  Two examples of that are chimney swifts and barn swallows that hatch babies in protective niches.  Chimney swifts historically nested down the inside of hollow, broken-off trees, but now raise young down the inside of chimneys, which, to them, are like hollow trees.  Barn swallows originally nested on cliffs and in shallow caves, but now rear offspring in barns and under bridges, which to them, are like cliffs and caves.
     The colony of rough-winged swallows that winter at Philadelphia's sewage plant might, in time, develop a new species of swallows because of their isolation from their mainstream relatives.  That group of rough-wings might stay at that plant to nest, which might also contribute to their isolation.
     It's inspiring to know that some forms of life are so adaptable that they survive where we wouldn't expect them to.  Because of relatively warm sewage, bacteria and midges are active in winter.  And swarms of midges attract wintering, insectivorous birds that are farther north, in numbers, than they ordinarily would be.  These food chains in a human-made environment created an interesting mini-ecosystem.        

Monday, December 26, 2016

Wintering Suburban Thrushes

     At least six wintering American robins have scratched for invertebrates and seeds in loose soil under a clump of three bushes on our lawn for the last several late afternoons in December of 2016.
I've never seen robins do that before on our lawn in winter, which peaked my interest.  Robins' adapting to different habitats and food sources has made them successful as a species, including in that little niche. 
     Robins, which are a kind of thrush, probably lived and nested in woodland clearings originally.  But as European colonists cleared the forests to create fields, robin populations increased in an ever-expanding environment they were preadapted to, which led to their great success as a species.
     Today robins commonly nest on suburban lawns that have shrubbery and young trees.  There each female builds a mud and grass cradle in a fork of a bush or tree.  But after their breeding season, robins gather in flocks, some of which go south for the winter, while others stay north, including here in southeastern Pennsylvania.
     Robins wintering in the north usually live by eating crab apples and a variety of berries, including those on hawthorns, multiflora rose, barberries, bittersweet and hollies.  But they also consume invertebrates when and where they can get them in winter, including digging for them with their toe nails in unfrozen ground.
     A few beautiful eastern bluebirds were in our suburban neighborhood on December 10, 2016, which was an exciting first sighting of them here.  In fact, I never saw bluebirds in a suburb before.  They were in our neighborhood because they were eating red berries from a barberry bush against the next door neighbors' house.  Eastern bluebirds, like robins, probably lived and nested in woodland openings and have adapted to and benefited from farmland, where they consume invertebrates in warmer months and berries in winter.  There they nest in holes in lone trees, fence post hollows and bird boxes erected for them.  And in winter, little groups of bluebirds pile into some of those same cavities to spend winter nights sharing body heat and surviving.
     And just a few years ago, many wintering hermit thrushes, which is a kind of spot-breasted thrush, visited bird feeders near shrubbery throughout the United States, including one wintering hermit in our back yard.  It was an interesting lone bird with its characteristic tail pumping and foot tapping.  And that hermit stayed among shrubbery all winter, and scratched up invertebrates, and seeds fallen to the ground from our bird feeder in the midst of protective bushes.
     Those few wintering species of the thrush family have made our lawn more exciting and memorable.  Traveling to see birds is fun and exciting, but, I think, no more so than those species seen at home.  And, at home, we have the advantage of studying and enjoying birds daily and more intimately.    

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

A Mid-Winter Nature Drive

     I went on a local, mid-winter nature drive for an hour on the sunny afternoon of December 20, 2016.  I say mid-winter because to me December 21, the shortest day of the year, is the middle of winter and the end of the biological year, a Biological New Year's Eve.  December 22, then is Biological New Year's Day.  From that day on, periods of daylight each successive day get longer as the northern hemisphere begins to tilt toward the sun, heralding spring's coming north.
     I drove out of New Holland, Pennsylvania on country roads for two miles, passing suburbs, farmland, a couple of streams and wood lots on the way.  Those four habitats are the major ones in Lancaster County.
     The first creatures I saw as I drove out of town were about 60 mallard ducks and close to  that number of Canada geese in an overgrown meadow with a stream flowing through it.  I must say that no matter how commonplace mallards and Canadas are, they are the most handsome and stately of waterfowl in this county. 
     Some of the ducks were swimming in a slow part of the waterway, while others of their gathering were feeding on weed and grass seeds from three-foot-tall, beige plants close to the water.  The drakes had beautifully iridescent-green heads that shown in the in the sunlight while the female mallards were lovely in a camouflaged way in the dead and light-brown grass.
     The geese were elegant with gray plumage on their bodies, and with their black-feathered rears, necks and heads, with a white chin "strap" on each side of the head.  Those Canadas were grazing on short grass in a back part of that pasture.     
     Driving on, I saw a fairly large, female American holly tree loaded with striking red berries on a lawn.  Another holly, a male, had no berries on it.  But the male's pollen blew on the wind in May and fertilized the female's blooms, hence the decorative scarlet berries.
     Moving on, I saw a young thicket of pretty shrubbery and trees in an abandoned meadow along the road I was on.  I saw a few cranberry viburnum bushes with lots of red berries, a couple of red-twigged dogwoods complete with red twigs, and a few young white oak and pin oak trees that still had several dead leaves clinging to them.  At some time in winter, American robins and other kinds of birds will eat those viburnum berries.
     Here and there, along the way, I saw stately, planted Norway spruce trees and white pine trees that lend green to the gray and beige winter landscape.  Many of the spruces also had decorative, beige cones on their upper limbs that have seeds that gray squirrels, mice, and American goldfinches, house finches, two kinds of chickadees and other kinds of small birds will eat during winter.  
     As I continued to drive through farmland, I saw a Cooper's hawk zip up into a tall, deciduous tree in a meadow where it perched to watch for birds to prey on.  A pair of red-tailed hawks perched on a tall tree in a nearby pasture.  I suspect those red-tails are a mated pair that may have a nest, or will build one, nearby.  And in that second meadow I saw a couple of eastern bluebirds on roadside electric wires and a northern mockingbird in a big clump of multiflora rose.  Both those species eat invertebrates when they can, but will turn to berries when the weather is cold and invertebrates are not available to them.
     I parked by a small, weedy thicket on the edge of a woodland before returning home.  The thicket was filled with tall, dead goldenrod stalks and dogbane plants.  A male northern cardinal and a song sparrow were among the goldenrod, eating their seeds.  A staghorn sumac tree with several pyramid-shaped clusters of fuzzy, red berries was in the little thicket.  And several vines of bitterweet, each one loaded with orange berries, were strung beautifully in the trees on the edge of the clearing.  White fluff, each one with a brown seed, floated out of the open pods of the dogbanes and away on the wind.  Some of those seeds will find good soil in sunny places to sprout and grow.  
     On the two-mile trip home I saw another Cooper's hawk land on a lawn and a group of small birds perched on the top of a half-grown, deciduous tree in a pasture.  Using binoculars, I looked at the congregations of birds in the tree and saw they were house finches, with several pink-breasted males.  Over the years, I've noticed that house finches nest in suburbs, but are scarce there in winter.  I think they may be driven out of town by gangs of house sparrows, which can be aggressive.  But the house finches seem to winter in weedy hedgerows and woodland edges outside of towns during winter.  That way, perhaps, they can live and feed without being harassed by house sparrows.  It's interesting how nature works out many potential problems.  
     Though it only lasted around an hour, I enjoyed that nature trip with its magnificent trees, lovely berries and interesting birds.  Readers can do the same.  Just get out and look around.  Most any nature excursion, no matter how long or short, can be enjoyable and inspiring.  They can give many people a new lease on life. 

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Nesting Mill Creek Waterfowl

     One day this past November, I made three stops along Mill Creek in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland to enjoy scenery and wildlife.  Among other kinds of birds spotted along that waterway, I saw a flock of Canada geese, a smaller group of mallard ducks and a few wood ducks at one place, a gathering of gray-lag geese at another stretch of creek, a pair of mute swans near the gray-lags and at least a few muscovy ducks at each of those spots along the creek.  The first three species of waterfowl are native and wild, but the latter three are domestic birds gone feral and living and nesting along Mill Creek.  In fact, all six of those waterfowl species raise young along Mill Creek, as they do along other waterways in this county, and all are permanent residents here, except woodies which migrate south for the winter.
     All these species of waterfowl, both wild and domestic, are built like boats were easy floating and swimming on water.  And they have beauties and intrigues, which add the same to the waterways and impoundments they live along.  And one has to admire and respect the feral birds as much as the wild ones because they are on their own and risk being caught by predators.  The feral species are just as vulnerable to predators as wild birds are simply because they nest in the wild.  The eggs and small young of all these kinds of waterfowl are subject to being preyed on by mink, raccoons, great blue herons, hawks and other kinds of predators.
     The young of all these related waterfowl species, and other kinds in their extended family produce young that are fully fuzzed, open-eyed and alert, and able to get their own food upon hatching.  They also have webbed feet for easy swimming.         
     Canada geese and mallards hatch young in grassy nurseries on the ground near water.  Each pair of geese and mallard hens brood their young, lead them to food and warn them of danger.  Canadas also protect their young from predators.
     Pairs of wood ducks return to the north early in March and almost immediately look for unused hollows in tall trees, or empty nesting boxes erected especially for woodies, along creeks and impoundments.  And when the ducklings hatch in those cavities in May, they use their toe nails to crawl up the inside of them and jump out the entrances to the water or ground below.  Each mother leads her brood to invertebrate food.
     The pompous gray-lag geese are originally from Europe where they nest in the wild.  Long ago, some of their population was domesticated and European pioneers brought gray-lags to American colonies to be raised for meat and eggs.  Gray-lags, like many kinds of geese, ingest grass and other plant material, both on land and in water.  And some feral pairs of these geese in local cropland hatch up to six young in a brood in grassy nurseries along waterways and impoundments, just as though they are wild.  And those wild-living pairs raise as many goslings as they can.
     Mute swans are large, elegant birds originally from Europe where they are wild birds.  Pairs of these stately swans were brought to America to be placed as ornamental birds on ponds in estates and parks, and on farms.  There many pairs annually raised up to six cygnets in a brood over the years and many of those young birds escaped captivity.  Today thousands of feral mute swans live on larger waters in Delaware, Maryland, New York State and New England.
     Lancaster County has several pairs of domestic mute swans that raise young on ponds, and other, feral pairs that rear offspring along creeks.  Some of those young swans escape captivity and make a living in the wild.
     Both parents of each pair of mute swans is aggressive in defending its cygnets against predators.  And many pairs of mutes drive away Canada geese, which they consider to be competition for space and food.  Male mutes are particularly aggressive.  They hold their wings up to be more intimidating while swimming in strong spurts in a threatening manner toward their foe.
     Muscovy ducks are from South America and were domesticated for meat and eggs, the reason they were brought to North America.  Wild muscovies are large and black with white trim, but many domesticated ones today have pure white feathering or any pattern of black and white.  Drakes are a little over twice as large as hens, and each muscovy has a partly-naked, red head, with males having much more red skin on their heads than females do.
     Interestingly, some feral muscovy hens in Lancaster County farmland start hatching young late in summer, and even in autumn, on their own along creeks and ponds.  This may be in response to the sun "slipping" south then, triggering muscovies that were adapted to living in the Southern Hemisphere to nest.  The sun "going" south indicates spring in the Southern Hemisphere.  But other muscovy hens apparently adapted to the Northern Hemisphere because they start nesting in May.
     All these species of waterfowl, both native and feral, nest along Mill Creek, as they do along other waterways and impoundments.  And there both the wild and domestic birds are interesting to watch conducting their life cycles in Lancaster County's agricultural areas.  Some day, the feral species may be totally wild in North America.   

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Landfill Wildlife

     On December 12, 2016, I drove to a landfill near Morgantown, Berks County, Pennsylvania that I have known about for years to see what birds were in and around it.  Land just north of Morgantown has woodlands, human-made impoundments, overgrown fields and hedgerow thickets between those fields that feed and shelter adaptable wildlife in that area.  But it also contains expressways and their accesses and cloverleafs, state roads, corporate centers, other businesses and the landfill. 
     As I approached the landfill, a blizzard of thousands of ring-billed gulls lifted off it, circled it a few times, then settled into it again like a snowfall of giant flakes.  A minute later a great, dark swarm of starlings rose from the landfill and created several pictures in the sky as the flock abruptly turned this way and that.  Then they, too, settled back into the landfill, on the fence surrounding it and on nearby tall trees.  No doubt, ring-bills and starlings are at that landfill all day, every day, in winter to ingest edible garbage brought in by a parade of trash trucks.  The gulls spend winter nights bobbing on local impoundments, while starlings find shelter in groves of coniferous trees or among buildings in cities and towns.   
     I was outside that landfill for a couple of hours on December 12 and saw many of the ring-bills and starlings there take flight in great flocks at frequent intervals.  And each exodus by one or the other of  those species is exciting, inspiring and entertaining to see.  The gulls are adapted to open, human-made habitats because they evolved on beaches and salt marshes where their great flocks can form.  When not in flight or eating, ring-bills in the landfill stood in white and pale-gray masses on its floor, as they congregate on beaches and flats.  And those gulls standing on landfill soil were undisturbed by the big trash trucks that drove close to them.  Starlings have adapted to most every human-made habitat, including this dumping area, much to their benefit as a species.  Adaptable species of any kind have a future. 
     Sprinklings of wintering American crows, turkey vultures and black vultures are also adaptable, abundant scavengers, like the ring-bills and starlings.  The crows and vultures daily come to this landfill to consume edible garbage through the winter, but not in great congregations.  Turkey vultures soar, with wing tips uplifted, into the wind and down on the landfill with little expenditure of energy.  Black vultures sail down with intermittent series of rapid wing beats and soaring.  The vultures spend winter nights in the tops of trees in wooded valleys that break the force of cold winds to an extent.     
     Like the surrounding countryside, the sloping edges of the landfill are covered by thickets of young trees of various kinds, including several red junipers and stag-horned sumacs, shrubbery such as multiflora rose and Tartarian honeysuckle, bittersweet vines and tall weeds and grass, including goldenrod and foxtail grass.  All these plants hold down the soil and provide food and cover for adaptable wildlife.  During the short time I was watching the landfill for the larger, flock birds, I saw northern cardinals, song sparrows and white-throated sparrows eating seeds from weeds and grasses.  And I saw a flock of American robins ingesting the fuzzy, red berries of a long line of staghorn sumac trees.  A sharp-shinned hawk was present near where I sat as that little hawk watched for small birds to catch and consume.  And I saw a few red-tailed hawks along the landfill slopes as they looked for mice to snare and ingest. 
      As each section of the dumping area fills with trash, soil is pushed over it and planted to grass seed.  The seeds of other plants blow in on the wind, or are carried in bird droppings to those grass-planted spots.  Eventually a variety of vegetation will fill those once bare-ground places, hold down the soil and feed and shelter a variety of adaptable wildlife.  What were once open sores on the landscape are reclaimed by plants and wild animals that make the countryside lovely again.
     Landfills, including this one, don't have to be wounds on the land, with proper management.  After trash is buried by soil, plants can be planted or allowed to take hold on their own.  That vegetation will be attractive to certain kinds of adaptable wildlife that will make a home in its embrace, and raise young there as well.    








































   
       
    

Monday, December 12, 2016

Expressway Plants in Winter

     Early in December of 2016, I was driving about 60 miles per hour along an expressway in southeastern Pennsylvania and noticed, as I always do, various picturesque and interesting plants on the ditched and sloped edges of the highway.  But this time I made a list of the more adaptable and outstanding plant species, vegetation with some beauty and intrigue in winter, and are also helpful to wildlife along major highways with deep shoulders.
     Grass that is occasionally mowed and lines of successional trees dominate those broad roadsides, and hold down their soil against erosion during heavy rains.  Occasional flocks of Canada geese graze, here and there, on the short grass through winter.  And little groups or singles of white-tailed deer nibble twigs and buds on the trees.
     Most of the roadside ditches and low spots are dominated by attractive cattails and phragmites, both of which are wetland plants.  The main beauties of these two plants are there seed heads.  The multitudes on cattail stands look like fat, brown hot dogs, while dense patches of them on phragmites are like downy plumes of beige, which are most lovely when sunlight shines behind them.   
     Seeds of cattails and phragmites blow all around, but only those that land in at least moist soil grow into plants.  Cattails and phragmites also spread from runners in damp soil. 
     These decorative species of bottomland plants provide food and shelter to a limited number of wildlife species.  Song sparrows and marsh wrens live and nest among them.  And muskrats feed on cattail roots and use the leaves of that species to build homes in the middle of larger puddles of standing water along expressways, as well as in ponds and cattail marshes.
     Many red juniper and stag-horned sumac trees, Tartarian honeysuckle bushes, and bittersweet vines, all on higher ground, bear fruits in winter that are not only attractive, but are food for a variety of birds and small mammals, including northern mockingbirds, American robins, starlings and mice.  Juniper "berries" are actually small, light-blue cones with barely visible scale edges.  All these plants are spread by seeds in the droppings of birds that eat the fruits, digest their pulp, but don't digest all the seeds.  Gangs of starlings ingest a lot of berries and spread them over the countryside in their travels.  And since roadside shoulders don't get plowed, or even mowed much, these plants have a good chance of sprouting and growing to maturity.     
     The seed heads and stems of teasel, goldenrod, fox-tail grass and broom grass are about three feet tall, attractive and abundant along many stretches of expressways.  The seeds of these plants are scattered by blowing on the wind.  The dark-brown heads of teasel are prickly and were used by medieval Europeans to tease out wool.  The stems and seed heads of the rest of the plants are beige, and most lovely when sun lighted from behind.
     American goldfinches, house finches, dark-eyed juncos and mice are some of the little critters that consume the seeds of these species of vegetation.  Some of the mice, in turn are caught and eaten by majestic red-tailed hawks and pretty American kestrels, which is also a kind of hawk.  Kestrels hover into the wind to watch the ground for prey.
     The vegetated shoulders of expressways are prettier and more interesting than is usually thought.  Watch for the adaptable plants and animals that are readily seen while RIDING, not driving, along those major highways.         
    

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Feathered Dramas on a Lake

      On December 9 of this year, I went to a large, human-made impoundment in southeastern Pennsylvania to see what water birds would be active and visible.  The lake was surrounded by deciduous woods and has a wooded island in the middle of it.
     The first water bird I saw, soon after arriving at the lake, was a ponderous, immature bald eagle that was soaring in the gusty wind over the lake.  It also swooped gracefully low to the water occasionally, as if about to snare a fish, but then swept upward without making a catch.
     While watching the eagle, I saw a fast-moving line of ducks powering low over the impoundment with the wind, circle into it and land in the middle of the lake, in a line stretched across the wind-driven water.  Studying those ducks with my 16 power binoculars, I saw they were 21 buffleheads.  The genders were equal in number.  And once on the water, the buffleheads stayed there resting during the hour and a half I was along the lake.
     Soon after seeing the buffleheads, I noticed a great blue heron flying majestically low across the lake.  It might have been looking for another fishing spot along the gravelly shoreline.
     For a while I saw only the heaving water, blue sky billowed with gray clouds and the grayish-brown, deciduous woods, spotted with green juniper and white pine trees.  Then a few ring-billed gulls arrived over the lake, followed by more and still more.  One minute there were no gulls to be seen, and the next minute they seemed to be everywhere in the sky, gliding round and round.  The ring-bills coasted and circled on outstretched wings, and seemed to play in the wind.  All the while more gulls flew to the lake, probably from nearby fields and parking lots where they were looking for food.  Some of the gulls landed into the wind on the waves and white caps of the impoundment while others continued to swirl over the lake.  The gulls landed into the wind for better flight control.  Meanwhile, more and more gulls came to the lake from wherever they were.  And many more of the airborne gulls dropped to the rafts of bobbing gulls forming on the tossing water.  Little by little, more gulls flew to the lake and more of them landed in the white and pale-gray rafts of their species the rest of the time I was along the water until there was at least a few hundred of them bouncing on the impoundment.
     As I scanned the hundreds of gulls on the water, I noticed that most of them were ring-bills as stated earlier.  But I also saw that there were a couple dozen herring gulls in those ring-bill rafts.  All gulls of both species were obviously rocking and resting on the restless water.
     Ring-billed gulls have been numerous inland for many years.  And I think they have attracted other kinds of gulls, in more recent years, to winter inland as well, including herring, great black-backed and lesser black-backed gulls, all of which can be spotted on inland impoundments in winter.
     While the gulls were putting on quite a show, a few noisy flocks of Canada geese flew in V's over the lake at intervals.  They probably were going to feeding fields of waste corn kernels or winter rye.
Their gatherings are always exciting to hear and see.
     Suddenly, all the gulls lifted off the water at once, forming a blizzard of birds, and swirled away.  Knowing that bald eagles can make flocks of gulls fly away in panic, I scanned the sky for an eagle or two and saw the same immature bald in the sky close to where the gulls were on the water.  Within seconds the lake was empty of gulls except one.  I looked at it with my field glasses and noticed it was floating on its back with its legs weakly kicking the air.  Although I didn't see it happen, the eagle must have attacked that gull, badly wounding it.  
     The eagle swooped down to the gull a few times, but didn't pick it off the water.  Then it soared out of sight.  But, after several minutes, the eagle swept down to the now-dead gull, lifted its victim off the water with its sharp, curved talons and flew away with it to a wooded shoreline to, presumably, eat its prey.
     There weren't many kinds of water birds seen around that impoundment that day, but each species seen presented an interesting show.  A person can't know what life is around any given habitat until he or she looks for it.  But every species seen is intriguing.             
    

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Feathered Ocean Mice

     Dovekies and Wilson's petrels are feathered mice on the vast, featureless North Atlantic Ocean, the former species during the northern winters and the petrels in the northern summer.  Dovekies are in the Alcid family of birds while the petrels are in the Hydrobalidae family.  The chunky dovekies are built like tiny penquins, but live and nest in the northern hemisphere, and are able to fly.  Wilson's petrels are light-bodied, have external, tubed nostrils and nest in the southern hemisphere.  Both species are pelagic when not raising young, six and a half to six and three-quarters inches long, have webbed feet but do not walk well, and each pair of each species lays one egg per year.
     Dovekies nest in large, noisy colonies, with each pair rearing its chick in a crevice between rocks at the foot of cliffs in northern Greenland, Iceland and North Atlantic islands.  Adult dovekies have a direct flight of whirring wing beats on short wings, are black on top and white below like penguins, and have stubby beaks.  They are active around their breeding colonies at night to avoid the predation of glaucous gulls, polar bears and Arctic foxes when they land to feed their chicks in their burrows.  Inuits catch many adult dovekies during the birds' breeding season.  They snare them in nets on long poles and process them for food.            
     In winter, dovekies are abundant on the lonely, seemingly endless North Atlantic Ocean.  There rafts of them bob on a habitat of ocean waves and slip under water to feed on tiny crustaceans.  They swim with their webbed feet on the surface, but power under water with their wings, as if flying under water, as penguins do.    
     Wilson's petrels are abundant in groups off the North Atlantic Coast during the northern summer, and are, sometimes, seen from shore.  It's thought by some ornithologists that this species is the most abundant bird on Earth.  This kind of petrel nests in crannies among loose rocks, under boulders and in cliffs on islands off the southern tip of South America and in the Antarctic Ocean, which completely circles Antarctica.
     Wilson's petrels are dark brown with white rumps and a light patch on the upper surface of each wing.  They have long legs with yellow, webbed feet.  They have a direct and gracefully gliding flight into the wind and low over the unending waves, which alternates with swallow-like wing beats.  When feeding on krill and other small crustaceans, plankton and tiny fish, petrels seem to dance on the waves with their wings raised into the wind for lift and long legs dangling and often touching the water.  Gulls and skuas, which are related to gulls, feed on some of the petrels.
     Though from different families of birds, dovekies and Wilson's petrels have characteristics in common because the habitat they share has shaped them to be what they are.  That process is called convergent evolution.  And for the same reason, the little dovekies of the northern hemisphere are somewhat similar to the penguins of the southern hemisphere.  And even if we never see dovekies and petrels, it's still neat to know they exist in mid-ocean habitats when not raising offspring.  These feathered mice are hardy in a tough habitat, which can be stirring to a person's imagination.         

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Some Diving Water Birds

     On December 1, 2016, I stopped at a few human-made lakes that are fairly close to each other in southeastern Pennsylvania to look for migrant water birds other than the mallard ducks and Canada geese that are almost always on those impoundments.  At the first lake I saw 20 ring-necked ducks, two pied-billed grebes and two immature white-winged scoter ducks.  I saw three more pied-billed grebes at the next lake and two ruddy ducks on the third one.  Though few in diversity and numbers because most of their kinds have not been pushed south yet by cold weather and freezing waters,  these diving water birds were interesting to experience, considering where they raised young, how far they traveled, their repeated and entertaining diving under water for food, and their life histories.  And, interestingly, there is limited competition for food among these diving birds.  Each species has its own menu for the most part.
     I saw those water birds on a somber day of heavy, gray clouds, patched here and there with yellow and pale-orange from sunlight, and the gray water that reflected the sky.  Though foreboding, the sky was beautiful and interesting, looking much like a water color painting.
     The birds were in open water close to shore where I got excellent views of them through my 16 power binoculars.  They were in the shallows near land because that's where a lot of their under water food is and because I stayed in my car, parked at the water's edge, so as to not scare the birds away.  Most wildlife is frightened by the human figure, but not by vehicles.
     Ring-necked ducks are common, and the most inland of bay ducks.  They nest on fresh water lakes and ponds on Canadian prairies and winter on inland, fresh water lakes, while their relatives the scaups, canvasbacks and other species winter on salt or brackish water of large estuaries.  Because these adaptable ducks winter on inland and built ponds and lakes, ring-necks are more easily and regularly seen than their estuary relatives.  And ring-necks are becoming more common in the east than what they had been, adding to the numerous sightings of them here in winter.
     Drake ring-necks are attractive, being dark on top with pale-gray flanks.  Females are brown, which camouflages them while raising young.  But this species should be called ring-billed duck because the faint ring on the neck is barely visible, but their is a white ring on the spoon-like beak of each bird, both male and female.       
     Members of each flock of ring-necks rest together while bobbing on open water a little distance out from shore.  They also feed together, mostly on aquatic plants and seeds, and a little of water insects and snails, all foods they dive under water to get.
     The common pied-billed grebes, like all their clan, are duck-like, but are not ducks.  They are duck-like because wildlife of a habitat are molded by their home into similar beings.  Loons, grebes, cormorants, geese, swans and other kinds of water birds are built like boats so they can easily push through the water they live on.      
      Pied-bills hatch young on vegetative rafts in the shallows of ponds across most of North America and winter in the more southern part of this continent.  Pied-bills slip under water to capture and eat crayfish, small crustaceans such as scuds, aquatic insects and small fish.  Their heads bob forward as they swim on the surface, as if those heads are pulling their bodies along.
     The two scoters were also diving to the lake's bottom, to shovel up water plants, scuds, water insects, snails and crayfish.  Those ducks had migrated from Canadian prairies where they hatched, but will, ultimately, winter in salt water along the Atlantic coast.
     Ruddy ducks hatch young near shallow water in fresh water lakes and ponds on the Canadian prairies, and some of them migrate into southeastern Pennsylvania for the winter.  Ruddies ingest aquatic vegetation mostly, and some water insects.
     These are just a few diving water birds I happened to see in a few local lakes recently.  They were intriguing because they are migrants and dive entertainingly under water to get food.
                 

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Winter Flock Birds

     Every winter day in the farmland of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, we see large, exciting flocks of noisy American crows in fields and gathering at their overnight roosting place at Park City Mall outside Lancaster City.  These crows raised young in the forests of Canada and are here in winter because of more abundant food, including corn kernels in harvested fields, acorns on lawns, road-killed animals, dead livestock in fields and tidbits on parking lots and in dumpsters, all of which are unwittingly provided by human activities.
     Several other kinds of adaptable, abundant birds also form big, interesting flocks in human-made habitats where they roost and/or feed, and in the air, in winter.  These birds include ring-billed gulls, mallard ducks, Canada geese, starlings, rock pigeons, house sparrows, mourning doves, American robins, horned larks and two species of vultures.  All these species shelter at night in different places.  All are permanent residents as species here, except the crows and gulls.  And all are entertaining, particularly in the air.
     Having nested along the Great Lakes, St. Lawrence River and ponds in western prairies, ring-billed gulls winter along the Great Lakes, the Atlantic, Pacific and Gulf coasts, and along Chesapeake and Delaware Bays, Delaware, Hudson, Potomac and Susquehanna Rivers and many inland, human-made lakes in the eastern United States, including in Lancaster County.  Wintering ring-bills also hunt fish, scavenge edibles and roost at night in those watery habitats.  And they scavenge from landfills, dumpsters and parking lots. 
     But flocks of ring-bills are most majestic when flying to or from their feeding areas in winter mornings and mid-afternoons.  They fly swiftly in V's, long lines or loose congregations, gang after gang, one after another, along aerial highways, steadily and silently, until they reach a feeding place or their watery refuge for the night.  Upon reaching their destination, the various flocks swarm round and round and intermingle by the hundreds, before landing on land or water.
     Mallards and Canada geese nest near water in Lancaster County, as elsewhere across most of North America and winter mostly on human-made impoundments, large and small.  Through winter, they rest on the still water, but feed in harvested corn fields and winter rye fields.  Flocks of these related water birds are most stately when in flight and silhouetted black against red sunsets of winter evenings.  Both species take off into the wind from the water, group after group along an invisible road through the sky.  The mallards take flight with whistling wings while the Canadas honk noisily and with a slapping of webbed feet on the water before becoming airborne.  Upon arriving at a feeding field, flying gangs of both species circle the field to watch for danger.  When seeing none, they come down to the ground, angling into the wind, one group after another, until all are on the ground and feeding.  Sometimes in winter I've watched these birds dropping to fields into drifting snow at sunset.  One second they were visible, the next they were not, then they suddenly reappeared.  And, meanwhile, that blowing snow was pink, from the sunset, and looking like the farmland was on fire.
     Gatherings of starlings, rock pigeons and house sparrows, all originally from Europe, and native mourning doves, the pigeons' little cousins, all feed on grain and weed and grass seeds in fields the year around, including winter.  The brown sparrows and doves are camouflaged on the ground and hard to see.
     Starlings move about in great flocks that draw pictures in the sky as they swirl and turn this way and that in unison, without collision.  These birds spend winter nights perched on buildings and in planted patches of evergreen trees that block winter wind.
     Doves also spend winter nights in coniferous trees, but pigeons perch overnight in barns, under bridges and on ledges of city buildings.  House sparrows nestle into dense shrubbery and crevices in buildings during winter nights.
     Not all American robins migrate south for the winter.  Some groups of robins stay north and feed on crab apples and berries during winter days.  And these relatives of thrushes spend winter nights in the protective embrace of coniferous trees in suburban lawns.   
     Gatherings of horned larks fly low across fields harvested to the ground.  Their flight is bouncy as if bobbing over invisible wavelets, then suddenly disappears as the birds land on the ground where they are camouflaged. 
     Horned larks nest on those fields, and winter on them, when they feed on weed and grass seeds and hunker down overnight among clods of soil or whatever vegetation they find in fields.  And larks, and all other birds in this essay, except robins and vultures, feed on bits of chewed, but undigested, corn in livestock manure spread on top of snow in the fields.
     Gangs of turkey vultures and black vultures, sometimes in mixed gatherings, scavenge dead chickens and other deceased livestock dumped into the fields, including in manure strips.  Turkey vultures are usually the first to notice dead animals because of their good sense of smell, a sense that is not so well developed in black vultures.  Vultures roost overnight in tall conifers, mostly in wooded valleys that block cold winter wind.
     These winter flock birds generally are noticeable in Lancaster County cropland, if one looks for them a little.  And these species of birds are entertaining to see going about their daily business during those cold, bleak days of winter.  Those birds can be inspiring. 
         
    
          

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Diurnal Roadside Raptors

     Over the years, I have seen many American kestrels, which are a kind of small hawk related to peregrine falcons, hovering into the wind on rapidly beating, pointed wings, over broad, grassy median strips of expressways, including during winter.  These little raptors were watching for field mice in the grass of those strips.  In fact, up to six different kinds of diurnal raptors (hawks) can be easily spotted by riders in vehicles along roadsides, including highways, in farmland in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, as elsewhere in North America, during fall and winter.  Those raptors perch on roadside wires, poles and tree limbs to watch for rodents and birds to catch and eat.  Those raptors are, in order of the numbers of times I have seen them along country roads, red-tailed hawks, American kestrels, Cooper's hawks, merlins, peregrines and rough-legged hawks.
     Big, stately and permanent residents as a species here in Lancaster County, red-tailed hawks are exciting to see along roads, particularly expressways with their broad shoulders of scattered trees, fences and infrequently mowed grass and other plants.  Those shoulders of hundreds of acres along many miles of highways are mowed occasionally, but never plowed, allowing field mice and other little critters to become established and multiply their numbers.  Mice, therefore, become numerous among the grass and weeds of roadsides and consume the seeds of those plants.  The red-tails soar majestically over expressway edges, or perch handsomely in trees by them to watch for mice in the grass and weeds, dropping into the grass to capture mice in their sharp, curved talons.    
     The diminutive and permanent resident kestrels perch on roadside wires and the twigs of trees along roads to watch for mice in the grass.  These small hawks also hover gracefully into the wind as they search for mice, dropping to the ground to catch a victim.  Like all hawks, kestrels have sharp claws that grab and stab their prey.
     Cooper's hawks are forest birds originally, but have adapted to nesting and hunting birds in older suburbs with their many tall trees and hunting in surrounding fields.  Coop's stand on roadside poles to watch for rock pigeons, mourning doves, starlings and other birds in cropland.  Fast on the wing, Cooper's hawks pursue their panicked, swerving prey in flight across open farmland until they catch and kill them.  Their flights after victims are exciting to see!
     Peregrines and merlins, both falcons, migrate through Lancaster County in autumn, and a few of each winter here as well.  Also, some peregrines nest under bridges and on city buildings in this county and surrounding ones in Pennsylvania.  But merlins raise young farther north.  Peregrines and merlins both perch on top of roadside poles in farmland to watch for pigeons, doves, starlings, sparrows, horned larks and other cropland birds.
     Falcons, traditionally, are open country birds where their great speed on swept-back, pointed wings benefits their capturing prey in the open.  They originally hunted victims on the tundra, prairies, beaches, salt marshes and similar habitats, but have recently adapted to farmland as well.
     Rough-legged hawks nest on the Arctic tundra, but some of them come this far south for the winter, hoping for easier hunting and more abundant prey.  Rough-legs perch in trees in fields and along rural roads to watch for mice and small birds.  They also hover majestically into the wind as they watch the ground for prey, a hunting technique they developed in the treeless tundra.
     Rough-legs once were more common in Lancaster County.  But as the wintering red-tail population here increased, wintering rough-leg numbers dropped.  I think they can't compete with the bigger, stronger red-tails for local cropland hunting territories.  The red-tails chase them off the farmland here.       
     Watch for these raptors, and others across the United States, when riding in a vehicle along country byways in winter.  They are all exciting to see when perched on roadside poles, wires and trees, or hovering elegantly into the wind over those roads. 

Friday, November 25, 2016

Three Stops at Middle Creek

     For a few hours on November 23, 2016, I drove along the main road through Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area in southeastern Pennsylvania to enjoy whatever nature offered.  Along the way, I made three stops just off that road, for about 40 minutes each, in places that looked promising to spot wildlife.
     Middle Creek has a variety of habitats, both natural and human-made, including a lake of a few hundred acres, many small ponds, wetlands, retention basins, streams, deciduous woods, hedgerows, weedy fields, and corn fields, which are stubble in winter.  That number of different habitats causes a variety of wildlife in the area.
     My first stop was a two-acre pond near Middle Creek's visitors' center.  A small group of Canada geese were resting on the pond and a limited variety of ducks was on it as well.  The weather, so far, has been mild, which means many ducks haven't come this far south yet.  More than a dozen gadwall ducks of both genders hugged the protective edges of the imopoundment where small trees, grasses and weeds hang over the water.  The gadwalls were "tipping up" to pluck vegetation with their shovel-like bills off the bottom of the shallows, moving along the shore as they fed.  The drakes were handsome in their feathering of brown heads, gray bodies and black rears.  The hens were mottled- brown all over, which camouflages them.
     Six black ducks, one drake shoveler, a half-dozen male ring-necked ducks, two female common mergansers and one female hooded merganser were also on that pond.  The shoveler, as his kind does, swam in tight circles in inches-deep water and used his webbed feet to stir up mud from the bottom.  He used his wide beak to seine tiny water plants and animals from the mud he swirled into the water.
     The ring-necks and both kinds of mergansers repeatedly dove under water from the surface in their quest for food.  The ring-necks were after alga and other kinds of aquatic plants, plus the greens and seeds of sedges, grasses, smartweeds and other species of plants that fell into the water, and insects and snails.  But both kinds of mergansers catch small fish.  The different diets of these ducks, as with all life, helped cause their distinct species and eliminated, or reduced, competition for food among them.    
     Three non-duck species, an American coot, a great blue heron and a belted kingfisher were also at this pond while I was there.  Coots look and behave like cross-breeds between ducks and chickens.  They dive under water after aquatic vegetation, but also feed on plants on land at times, the reasons they are built the way they are. 
     The heron and kingfisher catch fish, but in different ways; and they are built for what they do.  Herons have long legs to wade in water as they watch for vulnerable fish.  And they have long necks and beaks to reach out and down from their stilts to catch prey.  Kingfishers, on the other hand, have short legs and necks, which are not suitable for herons' style of fishing.  But kingfishers have their own ways of fishing, either perching on twigs hanging over water or hovering into the wind over water.  When fish are spotted, kingfishers dive beak-first into the water with a splash to snare their finny victims in their long, sturdy bills. 
     Moving on, I spotted a fat gray squirrel sitting on a limb of a white oak tree in a 100 yard long hedgerow of large trees extending from a gray deciduous woodland.  That hedgerow was bordered on one side by a field of tall, beige goldenrods, asters and grasses and on the other by a harvested corn field of yellow stubble.  I stopped to see what other kinds of wildlife were in that hedgerow and immediately saw it was full of birds. 
     A few permanent resident blue jays were in the hedgerow to eat and store white oak acorns.  Meanwhile, a pair of eastern bluebirds and a resident northern mockingbird were eating multiflora rose, poison ivy and bittersweet berries. 
     A few chickadees, species unknown, several tufted titmice and a white-breasted nuthatch, all permanent residents here, were among the trees to eat dormant insects and their eggs.  The chickadees and titmice scanned twigs for that food, while the nuthatch peeked into crevices in the bark for edible tidbits.  The titmice also were among the neighboring corn stubble in their quest for invertebrates while the nuthatch chipped at corn kernels to ingest.
     An individual in each of three kinds of woodpeckers, permanent resident downy and red-bellied, plus northern flickers, chiseled into dead wood in those big trees for insects.  The downy and red-belly also fluttered down to the corn stubble for food.  The downy chipped into stubble after insects while the red-belly ate corn kernels it chiseled apart.  
     But species of seed-eating sparrows and their relatives stole the show in that birdy hedgerow.  I saw a couple of permanent resident song sparrows and a pair of northern cardinals there.  Little groups of white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos were on the ground of the bordering weedy field to eat seeds.  The white-throats scratched vigorously in the soil to get that food.  I saw a lovely field sparrow perched on a twig with its pretty, pink beak glowing in the sunlight.  And I saw a few handsome tree sparrows perched on the tops of goldenrod stems in the neighboring weedy field, with their red crowns highlighted in the sunshine.  Every fall this sparrow species comes here from the far north, where it raises young, to spend the winter where seeds are more available to them.
     At a third stop near two small ponds surrounded by weedy fields and a bottomland, deciduous woods of red maples mostly, I saw a few more interesting birds, including more Canada geese, another great blue heron, a blue jay, a flicker, a song sparrow, a red-tailed hawk and a female northern harrier, plus a white-tailed deer doe.  The red-tail was stately while soaring and perched on a pin oak tree to watch for mice and squirrels, while the harrier, which is another kind of hawk, was interesting to watch hunting for mice and small birds.  The harrier pumped along, into the wind, on its long wings, slow and low to the ground, while watching and listening for prey.  When a potential victim is spotted, each harrier suddenly stalls in flight, turns and drops to the ground, seemingly in one motion, to seize the creature in its long, sharp talons.    
     That short trip to Middle Creek was interesting because of the variety of habitats there, including impoundments, woods and overgrown, weedy fields that provide various kinds of food and cover for a diversity of wildlife.  Readers can find similar places near home to watch for a variety of interesting wild plants and animals. 

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Trees and Wintering Birds at Greenfield

     Not only is the lawn and impoundment landscaping at Greenfield Corporate Center outside Lancaster, Pennsylvania well done and beautiful the year around, it's also another human-made habitat to enjoy and study trees and birds through the year, including in winter.  That extensive corporate lawn and seven ponds also show how more natural landscaping benefits certain kinds of adaptable birds and other creatures.  Certainly the lawns and ponds at Greenfield are better for wildlife than the farmland it replaced.  Fortunately, many companies today are putting in more natural plantings on their lawns, which is providing food and shelter to some critters.  Those wild animals don't have to move out and lose homes; they take advantage of mitigated habitats and win themselves a home.
     Some beauties of Greenfield are the foliage on planted red maples, sugar maples, Bradford pears and burning bushes late in November.  Red maples and burning bushes have red leaves, sugar maples have orange ones and Bradford pear foliage becomes a glossy dark red and purple.  But when those leaves fall off the trees, the beauty of coniferous trees planted at Greenfield becomes more visible as if a veil was dropped.
     Many coniferous trees were planted at Greenfield, including white pines, Norway spruces, eastern hemlocks, Douglas firs and northern white cedars or arborvitae.  Those evergreens make winters at Greenfield prettier and wilder-looking, especially when snow is piled on them and/or when they are silhouetted black against winter sunrises or sunsets.  They are even attractive when standing dark and stalwart at dusk or in fog with snow on the ground.
     These conifers, like all their kind everywhere, feed and shelter certain kinds of wildlife in winter.  Permanent resident gray squirrels, Carolina chickadees and American goldfinches and wintering pine siskins, two kinds of crossbill birds and other kinds of resident or wintering birds eat seeds from the cones of conifers.  Those creatures also consume conifer seeds that fell to the ground under the trees.
     In winter, conifers offer shelter to mourning doves, dark-eyed juncos, American robins, red-tailed and Cooper's hawks, great horned, saw-whet and long-eared owls, and other kinds of birds.  The heavily needled boughs of these trees block the cold wind, making the birds more comfortable when they are among them.     
     A variety of planted deciduous trees and shrubbery also provide beauty to people and food for a variety of wintering wildlife.  Resident gray squirrels, blue jays and wintering American crows feed on acorns dropped by planted oak trees.  One or two red-tailed hawks sail over Greenfield to watch for unwary squirrels to catch and eat.
     The beautiful red or orange fruits of crab apple trees are eaten by flocks of American robins, cedar waxwings, starlings and other kinds of birds in winter.  Some days those trees are swarming with a small variety of birds, which are sometimes preyed on by a Cooper's hawk.
     A few of the seven impoundments at Greenfield attract adaptable, common waterbird species during winter, including thousands of Canada geese, scores of mallard ducks, and, at times, several ring-billed gulls.  These birds rest on the water and/or ice in those ponds and fly about twice a day to farmland to get food.
     The thousands of Canada geese leave the ponds each winter day.  First they swim together and face into the wind before take-off, all the while becoming more restless and honking more and more insistently, as if getting up their nerve to take flight.  Finally, flock after flock, in turn, takes off from the water, into the wind for better flight control, with a roar of rapidly-beating wings and even more excited bugling.  After lift-off, the geese fly to nearby fields to eat waste corn kernels in harvested fields and the green shoots of grass and winter rye.
     After a few hours, more or less, those same Canada geese returned to Greenfield's ponds, again creating an exciting, wild show of numbers and pageantry.  Filling the sky with their bodies and noisy bugling, the geese approached the ponds of their choice, flock after flock, and parachuted down to them on the same aerial highway like feathered waterfalls.  Sometimes airborne goose gatherings are silhouetted black against a sunset.
     One time I saw a flock of Canada geese plucking grass on one of Greenfield's large lawns.  Suddenly, they all took flight at once, with much honking, as if in panic.  Looking around, I saw an adult bald eagle soaring low over Greenfield's impoundments, perhaps watching for fish.           
     Mallards are not as dramatic at lifting off the ponds as the Canadas.  But group after group of them speed off the water, one right after another, until all are powering rapidly, on whistling wings, to feeding fields to shovel up waste corn.       
     Some winters, a great gang of noisy snow geese, that never pipe down, lands on the largest of Greenfield's ponds.  In winter, these birds continually move around cropland in their search for harvested cornfields and winter rye fields.  So these ever restless geese don't stay here long because they will roam off in search of more fields or begin their migration north to their breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra.
     Sometimes one or two each of great blue herons and belted kingfishers winter around Greenfield's ponds, as long as they are ice-free, to catch fish.  The herons wade in the shallows while the kingfishers watch for fish by perching on a tree limb by a pond or hovering into the wind over the water.    
     Greenfield Corporate Center is an example of wildlife adapting to human-made habitats.  They win themselves a home and we can enjoy their beauties and intrigues.    
      

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Creatures in Our House

     One morning at the end of October, 2016, a Carolina wren flew into our bedroom by a window I opened a crack to cool the room and freshen its air here in New Holland, Pennsylvania.  Apparently, the wren squeezed through that crack to find a sheltered home for the winter, as that species of wren does.  But realizing its mistake, the wren flew around the room a few times, seemingly in a panic, and quickly exited by the same window I opened fully.  That wren caused me to remember other critters on the outside of our house, and in it, over the years.  Those creatures have been our closest neighbors.
     Several years ago, another Carolina wren got in the house by the same window (you would think I would have learned a lesson) and was chased all over the house by our Jack Russell terror (terrier).  The poor bird finally exited by an open door.
     Early in spring, during the last few years, we hear scratching on the outside of our two upstairs, window air conditioners.  That noise is made by several house sparrows on one conditioner and a pair of mourning doves on the other.  Both species are looking for sheltered nesting sites.  The sparrows chirp excitedly on their conditioner and the doves coo from theirs.
     One summer, we had a flowering geranium plant in a pot hanging on our front porch where rain could reach it.  Japanese beetles chewed the leaves off that plant, while a pair of mourning doves raised two young on that pot and the geranium grew back from its roots.
     A few other kinds of birds used our house at times over the years.  For the last few years, a pair of Carolina chickadees regularly enter an old dryer vent for the night, as they would a tree hollow.  At least twice, a pair of house finches built a nest and attempted to rear offspring on supports on our two awnings, one over the side door and the other above the back door.  One June day a male wood thrush sang on a red-twigged dogwood bush just inches from a living room window where I was sitting.  What a lovely concert of flute music from my own Central American ambassador.  Mallard ducks sometimes perch on our roof and gray catbirds have popped through the latticework under our deck, probably in search of a sheltered nesting spot there.  And one evening early in June, three recently fledged screech owls perched several minutes on three posts of our front porch railing.  
     We've had a few species of common mammals in or on our house over the years, including gray squirrels, a couple of little brown bats, house mice and deer mice.  The squirrels are characters, and entertaining.  They come on our porch and deck and scratch through potting soil in flower pots, either to bury nuts or to search for food.  Once a squirrel ripped out cushion stuffing from a porch chair, presumably to line her nursery.  And every autumn, grays take decorative Indian corn off our porch.
     We've had a couple of little brown bats in the house at different times.  One bat frightened everybody as it circled a bedroom in the middle of the night, searching for a way out of the house.  I went into the bedroom, shut the door and opened a window wide.  The next morning the bat was gone, much to our relief.
     We have had house mice and deer mice in our house at the start of some winters.  The best way to eliminate these little critters from the house is to live trap them and release them some distance from the house.
     Cottontail rabbits have had nests of young against our house at least a few times over the years.  And at least one adult cottontail lives under our deck during each day the year around.
     Several kinds of insects have been in the house, on our porch or on our deck over the years.  House flies and a kind of tiny ant are in the house every summer.  Fireflies that landed on us just before we came indoors fly slowly around the house, flashing their cold, abdominal lights, which I think is kind of neat.  Once we had a colony of yellow jackets in the basement, with an entrance through a wall to the outside.  Late that fall, however, the workers died and the queen buried herself somewhere in the soil of our yard, as all her kind do.  We never had that species in the house again.
     Big, black and yellow, female carpenter bees chewed round holes in the bottoms of our old, wooden porch railings, weakening those structures to the point they were finally removed.  There the bees raised larvae on flower nectar and pollen until they pupated and emerged as adults.
     All day, most every day during the summer of 2015, several honey bees landed on the damp potting soil of potted plants on our deck.  I think they were there to ingest moisture from that soil, or maybe they were consuming certain minerals from it.
     We have had several kinds of close animal neighbors at home over the years.  And everyone of them has made our lives richer.  Readers, too, can enjoy animal neighbors just by keeping a watch for them and tolerating their presence if you can.         
           
            
    

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Feathered Kings on our Lawn

     One day this past April, I saw a handsome blue jay repeatedly gathering bits of food from our grassy lawn and tenderly feeding them to another jay as apart of their courtship.  Though the genders of blue jays are identical in feathering, I assumed by their behavior that the feeding bird was the male of the pair.  And a month later, I accidentally noticed the jays' twig, open-cup nursery, with young in it, on top of an eight-foot-tall red juniper tree on our lawn.  And because they are permanent residents in our neighborhood, a pair of blue jays raises young here every spring into early summer.      
     Of all the kinds of small birds on our lawn in New Holland, Pennsylvania, the adaptable, permanent resident blue jays have been "king" for the 29 years I've lived in that small town.  They are royalty to me in typical suburban areas because of their being larger than most other species of birds regularly on lawns at some time of the year or another.  And they are bold and often noisy like the crows they are related to.  They shrilly call " jay, jay" and can imitate the "keeee-youuuu" scream of red-shouldered hawks that mostly live in bottomland woods, as blue jays do, too.  But jays are silent during the nesting season because they don't want to attract attention to their young.
     Blue jays are strikingly handsome birds.  They are white below and mostly blue on top with black and white spots and streaking.  They also have white faces and throats, and a black collar on the back of the head from the crest down on both sides to, and tied under, the "chin".  Blue jays are particularly attractive when foraging for acorns among the red and brown foliage of pin oak trees and searching for beech nuts among the bronze leaves of American beech trees.  They are also beautiful when perched on coniferous trees laden with snow.  They spend winter nights huddled in some of those conifers as well.    
     Each blue jay collects pin oak acorns and beech nuts because those foods are small enough for the jay to handle.  The jay harvests one nut at a time with its black beak and flies away with it to either stash it in a tree cavity or to use its sturdy bill to push it into soft soil on woodland floors and/or grassy lawns.  Those nuts are eaten by the jay during winter.  But if the jay is killed by a hawk, for instance, or forgets some of the nuts it stuck into the ground, those nuts could grow into new trees. 
     Like their crow cousins, blue jays will eat about anything, including invertebrates, nuts, berries, grain, seeds and most anything else edible.  Jays mostly live and get food in woods and older suburbs with their many large trees and bushes.  They also enter nearby fields to eat waste corn kernels on the ground and readily visit bird feeders to consume grain and seeds.  They sometimes scavenge dead animals and can be predators at times.  Blue jays have been known to eat eggs and young right out of smaller birds' nests.  I once saw a jay killing a house sparrow by hammering the smaller bird with its stout beak.  
     Blue jays live throughout the eastern half of the United States and in very southeastern Canada.  Most jays of this species live permanently in one area, but some of the more northern populations migrate south in small, silent groups during October.  Spotting group after group of blue jays and other kinds of birds winging south over the colored leaves of deciduous woods is exciting and pleasurable.  
     Blue jays are my favorite lawn birds because they are attractive, adaptable and interesting to watch at home the year around.  Their wild, loud presence can be exciting, especially when they are calling shrilly from tree tops or loudly harassing a hawk or owl.  And they are handsome when hopping among colored foliage in quest of nuts in autumn, or perched on snow-heaped evergreen trees.  They are fun neighbors to have.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Ghost Crabs and Fiddler Crabs

     Over the years, I have seen interesting colonies of fiddler crabs at such distant places from each other as in sand at the Wetlands Institute in salt marshes at Stone Harbor, New Jersey, along the muddy shores of the brackish Delaware River at Delaware City in the state of the same name, and along the salty edges of a bay by the Atlantic Coast at Charleston, South Carolina.  I saw those two-inch-wide crabs during the day as they went about their business of feeding and courting.  And, of course, the most amazing part of seeing those crabs was the huge front claw on each male.  Claws they use to attract females and intimidate other males.
     While reading about fiddler crabs, I learned they are related to ghost crabs and have several characteristics in common with them.  Both species swiftly run sideways and live in burrows they dig themselves.  Both use front claws to shuttle food to their mouths, can live as long as two years and are about two inches across at maturity.  Each species sheds its shell several times as it grows, has two stalked eyes and breathes oxygen from the air by moist gills.  Both kinds are eaten by gulls, herons and other predators.  Males of both kinds compete ritually for the attention of receptive females and females of both types release eggs into water.  And one of the two front claws of both species is larger than the other.   
     Atlantic ghost crabs live in burrows up to four feet deep on sandy beaches, above the normal high tide line, along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts from Maine to southern Brazil.  Each tunnel has a living chamber at the end of it and a second burrow out so the crab isn't trapped in its own home.
     These ghost crabs are yellow or pale gray, the reason they are called "ghosts", to blend into their sandy habitat when abroad in search of food, especially during the day, though they are mostly nocturnal.  They ingest small clams, insects, baby sea turtles that hatched on certain beaches, decaying plants and detritus.
     Male ghost crabs make sounds by stamping their legs on the sand, probably as part of their courtship rituals.  And one front claw on both genders of this species is a bit larger than the other.  The related male fiddlers evolved that larger claw trait to its maximum.  They probably couldn't lift or carry that greatly enlarged front claw if it got any larger than it already is.
     Colonies of many fiddler crabs live on sandy beaches and brackish, tidal mud flats.  Each one has its own burrow, making the sand or mud look like Swiss cheese.  Fiddlers are active and quite visible during the day, if one knows when and where to look for them.  At that time they pick up little blobs of sand or mud with their smaller front claws and pass those materials to their mouths.  They glean alga, fungus, microbes and detritus from each mouthful of sand or mud and discharge little balls of the inedible materials.         
     Each adult male fiddler crab has one front claw that is much bigger than the other one, and about as large as his body.  He can't use it to shuttle food to his mouth, but he waves it in the air to beckon females of his kind to come to him for mating.  Female fiddlers choose to mate with a male with the biggest  front pincer and who most vigorously waves it, indicating the male's strength and health that he will pass along to his offspring.  The females' selections over many years promoted the evolution of the large claws on male fiddler crabs, though it is dangerous to be so obvious.
     Both these species of crabs are interesting to experience.  And since they evolved from a common ancestor, they are another example of function and structure changes that help insure survival.    














































































































































































Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Wildlife in a Farmland Valley

     At dusk early one evening last December, while driving through a quarter-mile farmland and woodlot valley along a stretch of Mill Creek about a mile outside Lancaster City, Pennsylvania, I noticed a screech owl perched and silhouetted on a roadside wire.  As darkness gradually deepened, I stopped to watch that owl.  Within a few minutes, it dropped into a weedy field, presumably to catch a mouse.  And since it didn't come up again, I assumed it snared its intended prey in its sharp claws and was eating it.
     While watching the owl, I thought of other birds and mammals I experienced in that little valley when I regularly drove through it in the not so distant past.  In Winter, I almost always saw a resident flock of stately Canada geese in a harvested corn field or a lawn, either resting or eating corn kernels or blades of grass.  Sometimes they, as a group, would be in Mill Creek to rest, or in the air in their travels from place to place.  For several days early in March of one year, a boisterous flock of snow geese joined the noisy Canadas on a corn field and the lawn to consume grain and grass.  Both species of geese were majestic in the air and on the ground.    
     I almost always saw little gatherings of white-tailed deer in harvested corn fields in that valley at sunset in winter.  They were in the fields to ingest waste corn.  Sometimes, I saw Canada geese and white-tails in the corn fields at once, presenting a thrilling sight to any outdoors person.  The does were lithe and graceful, while big bucks, with elegant antlers, were magnificent fellows from November into January.  But at any sign of danger, all deer dashed off the fields with their tails lifted and wagging from side to side.  The white undersides of those signaling tails were the last of the deer to be seen as they ran into nearby wood lots.  But when running stopped and tails were lowered, they disappeared, a trick that could confuse would-be predators.
     Some birds I experienced only occasionally in this lowland along Mill Creek.  Sometimes at dusk in winter, I heard a pair of great horned owls hooting to each other as part of their courtship.  Once, I saw a horned owl fly from one wood lot to another.  Though silhouetted black before a brilliant, orange sunset, I identified it as a horned owl by its large head and seeming lack of a neck.
     Once I heard a barred owl hooting in that valley, but I didn't see it.  Barred owls inhabit woods near creeks and lakes.
     Sometimes I would see a great blue heron at any time of year wading on its long legs in Mill Creek to catch fish, frogs and crayfish.  Herons also have lengthy necks and beaks to snare their prey.
     Once on a winter's day I saw an adult bald eagle flying majestically down stream low over Mill Creek.  Needless to say, what a thrill that was!                    
     Once in winter, I saw a male northern harrier cruising back and forth, low over fields bordering Mill Creek and its thin, riparian woods of black walnut, and silver maple and ash-leafed maple trees.  That gray hawk was watching for mice and small birds to catch and eat.
     I saw a few kinds of mammals and signs of mammals in this valley.  I was thrilled to see a couple of handsome red foxes trotting along, one on a winter morning and another at dusk in that same season.  Those foxes were either hunting mice or mates, or both.
     One time, in summer, I saw a beautiful female mink swimming in Mill Creek in this valley.  She might have been hunting muskrats, fish or frogs to feed to young in a streamside den.
     I've seen raccoon tracks in mud along Mill Creek where those masked critters hunted frogs, crayfish and mussels at night.  Those ring-tails also consume berries, insects and just about anything edible.       
     A variety of small birds nest in this valley because of a diversity of habitats, including wood lots and an overgrown meadow of sapling trees and tall weeds and grasses.  Carolina chickadees, downy woodpeckers and house wrens are some of the birds that raise young in tree cavities in the woods.  Northern cardinals, song sparrows, American goldfinches and gray catbirds rear offspring in pasture thickets.  The goldfinches are also there because of patches of Canada thistles that produce seeds the goldfinches ingest and seed fluff the goldfinches use to build their soft, lovely nurseries.  
     But there also are a few kinds of birds of special note nesting in the abandoned pasture along Mill Creek and its riparian woods.  Two pairs of eastern bluebirds hatched young in tree cavities in the creek-side woods.  And at least one pair each of indigo buntings and orchard orioles raised chicks in open, grassy cradles, the indigos in a bush and the orioles in a young tree.
     I would see the male indigos singing from the tops of saplings and tall weeds.  And a couple of times I saw a whole orchard oriole family in that overgrown pasture, including the beautiful black and chestnut adult male himself!
     This little farmland valley is one of many in southeastern Pennsylvania.  And every one of them has a variety of intriguing wild creatures living in it because of a diversity of habitats.  One need only to visit one or more of these natural habitats to experience and enjoy a variety of interesting plants and wild animals in them and go home inspired by nature's beauties and diversity.    
    

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Woodland Hawks in Southeastern Pennsylvania

     A few kinds of hawks in southeastern Pennsylvania, including red-tails, American kestrel's and Cooper's, have adapted to living and nesting in farmland, and older suburban areas with their many tall trees.  But other kinds of hawks, including goshawks, broad-wings and red-shoulders, still winter or nest in this area's woodlands.
     I have been thrilled to see two wintering goshawks so far in my lifetime.  Both birds were flying low and fast, with quick, powerful wingbeats through maturing forests in southeastern Pennsylvania.  They do that to surprise, flush up and catch a variety of woodland birds and mammals, including ruffed grouse, blue jays and squirrels. 
     Goshawks are exciting to see hunting in the woods.  But they are only in this part of Pennsylvania during winter, and not every winter at that.  They only migrate south when food is scarce in northern forests where they raise young.
     Goshawk pairs nest high in trees in the northern, mixed forests of Eurasia and North America.  In America, they hatch young across Alaska and Canada, in New England, down the Rocky Mountains and down the Appalachians to Maryland.  They fiercely protect their young from all comers.
     Goshawks are large, heavy birds that are bigger than crows.  Adults are gray on top and finely-barred gray below.  The young, however, are brown above and brown-flecked underneath.  And both genders and all ages have a broad, white stripe above each eye, back to the upper neck.
     Broad-winged hawks only nest in deciduous woods in the eastern United States.  They winter in Central America and northern South America.  Arriving in southeastern Pennsylvania in mid-April, they quickly pair, prepare stick nurseries high in woodland trees and raise young until they leave their cradles late in July.  Broadies feed on frogs, snakes, mice, insects, small birds and other critters in the woods.       
     Starting in September, broad-wings migrate in spectacular flocks of themselves out of the United States to wintering areas in Central and South America.  Each sunny morning during that month, broadies rise from tree tops in the woods where they spent the night and search for rising columns of warmed air called thermals.  When each broad-wing feels the rising of a thermal, it enters it and is spiraled higher and higher by the warm air.  More and more broadies enter the thermal until it is filled with many raptors spinning upward.  At the zenith of the thermal, the broadies peel off in long lines or flocks and head southwest, soaring high above the ground for mile after mile with little effort.  But gravity pulls them down and so the broad-wings are obliged to find another thermal and another, all day, day after day of their migration southwest to their wintering places.
     As a species, red-shouldered hawks are permanent residents in southeastern Pennsylvania's wet, bottomland woods.  And there is where they nest, in stick nurseries in the tree tops.  Their summer range is all of the eastern United States and most of them winter in the southeastern United States.  
     Adult red shoulders are pretty hawks, being robin-red underneath, with black and white stripes on their upper wings and tails and having rufous-red "shoulder" patches.  Immatures, however, are brown on top and brown-streaked on white below, which camouflages them.  And like broad-wings, red-shoulders mostly perch in ambush to catch and ingest frogs, snakes, mice, insects and other small critters in the woods.  Broadies and red-shoulders might compete a bit for food in bottomland woods, though broadies are not restricted to that habitat as red-shoulders are.  
     Though not seen as much as farmland hawks, these woodland hawks are an exciting part of southeastern Pennsylvania's avifauna.  They can be spotted with stealth and patience at the times they are living in this part of the state, and elsewhere across much of North America. 

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Nature in Fall

     On November 2, 2016, I went looking for highlights of nature in farmland and wood lots around Honey Brook in Chester County, Pennsylvania.  I made two stops where meadows, woodlots and small waterways mingle in bottomlands.  The weather that day was delightful with clear skies, warm temperatures and little wind.  And autumn leaves were at their peak of beautiful colors in woodlots  and on distant wooded hills.
     Stop one was a mix of a small pasture overgrown with reed canary-grass and multiflora rose bushes that bordered a brook, all under an open canopy of several tall silver maple and black alder trees.  The rose bushes had many red berries that will feed deer mice and berry-eating birds, including northern mockingbirds, American robins and cedar waxwings, during the coming winter.  The alders had many decorative, tightly-closed catkins (male flowers) hanging from twigs that will open and undulate in the wind next March.  The alders also had small, woody cones with tiny seeds in them that will feed seed-eating sparrows and finches through winter.  
     I saw a few species of birds during the hour I visited that little meadow, including a pair of Carolina chickadees, a few house finches, a song sparrow, a pair of northern cardinals, a few white-throated sparrows, a pine warbler and a family of about six tufted titmice.  The chickadees, titmice, finches, cardinals and song sparrow are all permanent residents of that overgrown, tree-studded meadow and its surrounding cropland.  But the white-throats and pine warbler are migrants or winter residents only. 
     While I was there, the house finches were feasting on ragweed seeds on the dried plants.  The white-throats scratched among fallen leaves for invertebrates and seeds under those leaves.  The titmouse family was all over the alders in search of tiny invertebrates to eat.  The feeding activities of those birds made this little pasture the more interesting. 
     I made a second stop a few miles from the first one because I saw an adult red-headed woodpecker land on a wooden fence post near the road just as I drove by that post.  Quickly stopping along the side of the road, I noticed two adult red-heads on a dead tree in a small pasture studded with living pin oak and red maple trees.  The maples' leaves were breathtakingly red, especially against the blue sky.  The woodpeckers' feathers on their wings and bodies were black and white patterned, and their heads were completely, strikingly red!  Both woodpeckers were actively catching flying insects in mid-air, as their species often does.
     A pair of red-tailed hawks were perched in different trees in a nearby, colorful woodlot of red maples mostly.  Those hawks probably were quietly watching for gray squirrels gathering acorns and storing them for winter use in tree cavities and holes the squirrels dig into the ground.  Any squirrel caught off guard could be caught and eaten by the hawks.  If that happens, some of the acorns buried in the soil could sprout into new trees.
     Meanwhile, three lovely blue jays were taking turns gathering and flying away with pin oak acorns in their beaks to that same red maple wood lot.  There they will stash those nuts in tree hollows or in shallow holes in the soil of the woods.  The jays make those holes in the ground with their beaks and push a nut into each one of them.  But if a jay is killed or forgets where it buried acorns in the ground, those nuts could develop into young trees, if squirrels and mice don't find them first.  
     A flock of about 20 mourning doves and a gathering of around 30 purple grackles were feeding on the ground among each other where the meadow and woodlot met.  The doves were eating weed seeds while the grackles were consuming invertebrates and seeds.  The grackles constantly flipped fallen leaves over to uncover those food items. 
     I thought this was an intriguing, enjoyable nature trip in the beauties of colored leaves, nice weather and interesting birds.  It's days like this that are inspiring and uplifting.  Anyone can enjoy nature most anytime, anywhere.  One just has to get out to experience it and let it work its wonders. 

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Dark Birds in Flight

     In the morning of October 28, 2016, I was driving through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland.  It was a typical late-October day of clear skies and blustery, cold wind.  Suddenly I saw about a dozen turkey vultures and a few black vultures maneuvering together into the wind, and a tattered line of American crows struggling into the wind over the farmland.  It was interesting to see the turkey vultures rocking from side to side a bit on their outstretched, slightly tipped-up wings to cope with the wind while soaring and the black vultures' usual flight pattern of alternately soaring and flapping their wings as if in a panic.  The crows recently came south from their nesting areas in Canada to spend the winter here, as they do every late-October.
     Continuing on, I saw a half dozen, probably different, turkey vultures maneuvering masterfully in the strong wind over rye fields, harvested corn fields and a field of orange pumpkins.  Then I saw more, and more, turkey vultures, which finally numbered to about 20 individuals, with a few black vultures among them.  It was entertaining to see that many vultures, which are large and dark, tacking and tipping masterfully in the wind.
     Something dead must have been in a rye field because six of the turkey vultures landed in that field and were pulling on something, though I couldn't see what because of the blades of rye.  And I didn't want to walk out there and disturb those big birds.  With my 16 power binoculars, I noticed two of the turkey vultures were young of this year.  They had gray faces rather than the red faces of adults.     
     Meanwhile, a few ragged lines of crows struggled by into the wind.  Those airborne crow flocks were a bit scattered because of the wind tossing the crows about.  But the crows were looking for harvested corn fields to land on and eat kernels of corn left on the fields after the harvests.
     Another mile down a country road, I saw a flock of a few thousand purple grackles in a corn field where they were eating invertebrates and waste corn kernels, which is what grackles do at this time of year.  The grackles in that large gathering fed for a few minutes, then took to the air in a great, dark mass, swirled over the fields a minute, then dropped to another harvested corn field.  At one point, a red-tailed hawk repeatedly dove into the wind and into the flock of airborne grackles, either for fun or to catch a meal, or both.  But I didn't see the hawk catch a grackle.
     During summer and into the fall, post-breeding purple grackles gather into larger and larger groups which is how they spend the winter from our latitude south in the United States.  Daily their great congregations seek corn kernels and other edibles in farmland and roost on winter nights in stands of tall coniferous trees.  
     In the morning of October 31, 2016, I was driving on another country road in Lancaster County farmland.  Again the wind was cold and the sky was clear.  The foliage on distant wooded hills and in farmland wood lots was at its peak of warm colors.  It was another typical, beautiful autumn day.  As I drove, I saw a column of turkey vultures as high as a small mountain in the blue sky.  There must have been over 30 swirling vultures in that feathered pillar.  And, interestingly, there were about six red-tailed hawks and a few black vultures among those circling turkey vultures.  When I stopped to observe that feathered column more closely, I noticed two large, dark birds that I suspected were bald eagles.  Looking at them with 16 power field glasses, I saw they were, indeed, immature balds that were chasing each other across the sky and low over the fields.  What a thrill to see those two magnificent birds so close, and in binoculars!
     All those large, scavenging birds were attracted to a chicken farm of two, long chicken houses.  Some chickens die on those farms and are dumped in fields with manure, providing meals for scavenging birds and mammals.  A few turkey vultures were perched on the chicken houses as if waiting for lunch.        
     It was inspiring to experience gatherings of these large, dark birds in flight and on Lancaster County fields.  Each species went about its daily routine for this time of year.  And each species is well adapted to farmland, a human-made habitat, to get food.  People unwittingly provided that habitat, which benefits the birds' getting food from it, and benefits us in that we see these awe-inspiring birds daily through fall and winter.