At some point every winter I visit the large, human-made impoundment at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area in Lancaster and Lebanon Counties in Pennsylvania to enjoy the water birds wintering there. I went to Middle Creek for a couple of hours during an afternoon in the middle of January, 2016 to see what was happening. Right away I noticed the lake was mostly frozen with some long leads of open water, making it appear wild, beautiful and inspiring in its own chilly way. And I saw thousands of big, white tundra swans sitting on the ice and water. A quick glance at the lake also revealed thousands of Canada geese and hundreds of black ducks on the ice and water. Cold wind blew relentlessly across the mostly frozen lake, but the huddled waterfowl have wonderfully insulating feathers to withstand the cold.
In my mind I was in luck; these are my favorite wintering ducks, geese and swans, which are hardy, majestic and inspiring. And, luckily for me, these abundant and magnificent species of waterfowl have dominated the main impoundment at Middle Creek with their numbers and constant comings and goings every winter for years. To me, they represent winter on built impoundments.
Elegant swans coming back to the lake from feeding on corn kernels in harvested corn fields and fields of winter rye were particularly regal when parachuting down, group after group, some of them bugling, to the water with hardly a wing beat until just before landing. Meanwhile, other, magnificent flocks of swans lifted off the water by running over it into the wind and beating their longs wings. Their broad, webbed feet sounded like applause as they ran over the water. Finally, tattered V's and long lines of swans were in the air and on their way too feeding fields, with a wooded mountain providing a wild backdrop to their picturesque flights.
The Canada geese and black ducks moved around a bit, but not like the swans. They mostly rested on the lake. But some of the geese did become airborne, with much honking, to shift positions on the ice. Distant black ducks appeared black against the ice and water as they walked and swam among their larger cousins.
Canada geese and black ducks also feed in harvested corn fields about twice a day, as the swans also do. And at some point, I saw scores of black ducks in little gangs zip back to the lake and land on it into the wind, flashing their white under wing feathers, which was a stark contrast to their dark feathering. All birds take off and land into the wind for better lift and flight control.
There were other kinds of water-loving birds on or along the lake that afternoon. I counted eight graceful great blue herons nestled low along a shoreline to avoid the wind between fishing forays in the lake. And at one time a magnificent adult bald eagle and an immature bald were in the air over the impoundment at once. And a flock of about 20 shoveler ducks were in one of the leads of water.
Sometimes when I visit Middle Creek in winter, I see several common merganser ducks, many of which dive for small fish. And sometimes I notice a few gadwall ducks, ring-billed gulls or double-crested cormorants in the air or on the water. All these water birds add to the interest of Middle Creek in winter. But it's the stately tundra swans, majestic Canada geese and hardy black ducks that I really go to see at that wildlife area in winter. Those waterfowl are beautiful and inspiring to experience.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
More Birds Coping with Snow
On January 27, 2016, a few days after a monster blizzard, I drove through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland to find more examples of birds coping with deep snow on the ground. The new-fallen snow under a blue sky gave a fresh, new look to the countryside and accentuated the colors of deciduous and coniferous trees alike. I only got a mile from home when I came upon five turkey vultures and a half dozen American crows feeding on a road-killed cat lying in the middle of the country road. Luckily for the birds there was little traffic on that road. But at the approach of each vehicle, the vultures and crows flew off the road, circled the spot once and landed again safely at the dead cat behind the moving vehicle and continued feeding on it.
Wind during and after the blizzard blew snow off certain stretches of fields, exposing the soil or winter rye. The bare ground would have seeds and tiny stones that horned larks, mourning doves and other kinds of field birds could eat as the snow melted and exposed more patches of ground. The exposed rye would feed cottontail rabbits and Canada geese.
I noticed, too, that wind blew snow away from the bases of corn shocks in the fields and trees in fields, meadows and lawns, baring the soil around them. And as the warm sunlight shines on the shocks and trees, warming them, that heat radiates out and melts more, and more, snow, expanding the ring of bare ground that benefits birds and mammals.
I had to stop by a tree-studded meadow because of exposed soil around many of the larger pin oak and sycamore trees. And, sure enough, a few kinds of birds were getting food on that bare ground at the bases of the trees. A few beautiful blue jays were there, probably eating seeds and acorns. A red-bellied woodpecker, three yellow-shafted flickers and song sparrow were doing the same, all in those islands of bare soil at the base of each tree, which were surrounded by a sea of deep snow. The sparrow was scratching up a storm to get seeds.
That meadow yielded a few other delightful surprises while I was there. I saw a red-tailed hawk soaring on high and it appeared totally white as its underside reflected the light bouncing off the snow. A striking adult red-headed woodpecker flew from one tree to another, revealing its dark upper side, white underparts and totally red head. And I saw a sleeping gray phase screech owl in the entrance to its hollow in a battered river birch tree.
As I continued driving through cropland, I saw a loose group of about 12 beautiful northern cardinals, a song sparrow and several white-throated sparrows feeding on seeds and grit along a plowed, thin strip of roadside by a sheltering woodlot. They flew into the woods at the approach of any vehicle, of which there were few, but soon came out again to feed on seeds along the road.
Seeing strips of bare ground under rows or stands of half-grown conifers, that catch much of the falling snow in their needled boughs, reminded me that dark-eyed juncos, American goldfinches and other kinds of small birds that shelter in those same conifers, eat seeds under those sheltering trees. Those planted conifers are mostly on lawns where they add much beauty to that human-made habitat.
Needless to say, this was a good field trip close to home. And it revealed how adaptable wildlife can be, particularly through rough times in human-made habitats.
Wind during and after the blizzard blew snow off certain stretches of fields, exposing the soil or winter rye. The bare ground would have seeds and tiny stones that horned larks, mourning doves and other kinds of field birds could eat as the snow melted and exposed more patches of ground. The exposed rye would feed cottontail rabbits and Canada geese.
I noticed, too, that wind blew snow away from the bases of corn shocks in the fields and trees in fields, meadows and lawns, baring the soil around them. And as the warm sunlight shines on the shocks and trees, warming them, that heat radiates out and melts more, and more, snow, expanding the ring of bare ground that benefits birds and mammals.
I had to stop by a tree-studded meadow because of exposed soil around many of the larger pin oak and sycamore trees. And, sure enough, a few kinds of birds were getting food on that bare ground at the bases of the trees. A few beautiful blue jays were there, probably eating seeds and acorns. A red-bellied woodpecker, three yellow-shafted flickers and song sparrow were doing the same, all in those islands of bare soil at the base of each tree, which were surrounded by a sea of deep snow. The sparrow was scratching up a storm to get seeds.
That meadow yielded a few other delightful surprises while I was there. I saw a red-tailed hawk soaring on high and it appeared totally white as its underside reflected the light bouncing off the snow. A striking adult red-headed woodpecker flew from one tree to another, revealing its dark upper side, white underparts and totally red head. And I saw a sleeping gray phase screech owl in the entrance to its hollow in a battered river birch tree.
As I continued driving through cropland, I saw a loose group of about 12 beautiful northern cardinals, a song sparrow and several white-throated sparrows feeding on seeds and grit along a plowed, thin strip of roadside by a sheltering woodlot. They flew into the woods at the approach of any vehicle, of which there were few, but soon came out again to feed on seeds along the road.
Seeing strips of bare ground under rows or stands of half-grown conifers, that catch much of the falling snow in their needled boughs, reminded me that dark-eyed juncos, American goldfinches and other kinds of small birds that shelter in those same conifers, eat seeds under those sheltering trees. Those planted conifers are mostly on lawns where they add much beauty to that human-made habitat.
Needless to say, this was a good field trip close to home. And it revealed how adaptable wildlife can be, particularly through rough times in human-made habitats.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Birds Coping with Snow
Certain species of farmland birds noticeably change their habits to get food when there are several inches of snow on the ground here in agricultural Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Three cropland niches in particular demonstrate where and how those birds get food when snow covers the birds' normal feeding niches.
Snow plows remove snow from country roads, and some of the roadsides down to the soil. That plowing bares seeds and tiny stones that flocks of sparrow-sized horned larks, mourning doves, rock pigeons, savannah sparrows, house sparrows, American crows and other seed-eating bird species consume along the edges of rural roads when seeds and grit in the fields are buried by snow. Normally all these birds feed on seeds and grain in the larger fields of this area, and, being camouflaged except the crows, are not obvious to us. But these same birds flock to rural roadsides after a snowfall to eat seeds, and teeny stones that help grind those seeds in their stomachs until the snow melts and their normal food sources are again available to them. Then we readily see them right along those roadsides.
Horned larks are, by far, the most abundant of these species in winter farmland. Flocks of a few score to over a hundred larks each are easily seen along the roadsides after a snowfall. The larks, and the other bird species, rise up ahead of passing vehicles, but soon settle along the roadsides again to feed on seeds and grit. These birds are desperate for food and have no time to waste flying about.
Horned larks are striking birds in a plain, camouflaged way. They are light-brown on top to blend into bare-ground habitats. And they have handsome black and yellow face patterns.
Some groups of horned larks have Lapland longspurs and snow buntings among them. Both those species nest on the Arctic tundra, and come south some winters to find seeds to eat.
Some winters snow buntings are here in large numbers and form beautiful, intriguing flocks of their own on large, snowy fields where they are invisible until they fly low over those snow-covered fields or are along country roads ingesting seeds and grit. The beautiful snow buntings are white and brown in winter, which blends them into the fields.
Chewed, but undigested corn kernels in animal manure spread in rows by manure spreaders on top of snow in fields is a handy source of abundant food for seed and grain-eating birds, including the ones discussed above, and mallard ducks, Canada geese and tundra swans. Those birds scratch, shovel and peck through that animal waste to get the corn, which sustains them until the snow melts away and their more normal sources of food are again available to them.
Shallow brooks and small streams running through cow pastures in this county are life savers to a few kinds of wintering birds when snow is on the ground. The running water keeps the muddy edges from freezing or being covered by snow. Wilson's snipe normally winter along those meadow waterways where they rapidly probe their long beaks like sewing machine needles in mud under shallow water to capture aquatic invertebrates. These inland sandpipers are well camouflaged in their exposed niche and are not usually seen until they fly.
Meanwhile, killdeer plovers, wintering American pipits from the tundra, and local song sparrows feed in the fields, until their foods of invertebrates and seeds are buried under snow. Then those three species of brownish birds join the snipe at brooks and streams to capture and ingest invertebrates from the mud and running water.
The sparrow-sized pipits constantly bob up and down as they walk along the shores of those small waterways to get invertebrate food. That bobbing is a mimicry of objects bouncing in the current so the pipits are undetected by predators, particularly small hawks.
These are a few ways wintering birds in this area cope with snow on the ground that blocks their getting their normal foods. Those birds adapt to other food sources until the snow melts away and their usual foods are available to them again.
Snow plows remove snow from country roads, and some of the roadsides down to the soil. That plowing bares seeds and tiny stones that flocks of sparrow-sized horned larks, mourning doves, rock pigeons, savannah sparrows, house sparrows, American crows and other seed-eating bird species consume along the edges of rural roads when seeds and grit in the fields are buried by snow. Normally all these birds feed on seeds and grain in the larger fields of this area, and, being camouflaged except the crows, are not obvious to us. But these same birds flock to rural roadsides after a snowfall to eat seeds, and teeny stones that help grind those seeds in their stomachs until the snow melts and their normal food sources are again available to them. Then we readily see them right along those roadsides.
Horned larks are, by far, the most abundant of these species in winter farmland. Flocks of a few score to over a hundred larks each are easily seen along the roadsides after a snowfall. The larks, and the other bird species, rise up ahead of passing vehicles, but soon settle along the roadsides again to feed on seeds and grit. These birds are desperate for food and have no time to waste flying about.
Horned larks are striking birds in a plain, camouflaged way. They are light-brown on top to blend into bare-ground habitats. And they have handsome black and yellow face patterns.
Some groups of horned larks have Lapland longspurs and snow buntings among them. Both those species nest on the Arctic tundra, and come south some winters to find seeds to eat.
Some winters snow buntings are here in large numbers and form beautiful, intriguing flocks of their own on large, snowy fields where they are invisible until they fly low over those snow-covered fields or are along country roads ingesting seeds and grit. The beautiful snow buntings are white and brown in winter, which blends them into the fields.
Chewed, but undigested corn kernels in animal manure spread in rows by manure spreaders on top of snow in fields is a handy source of abundant food for seed and grain-eating birds, including the ones discussed above, and mallard ducks, Canada geese and tundra swans. Those birds scratch, shovel and peck through that animal waste to get the corn, which sustains them until the snow melts away and their more normal sources of food are again available to them.
Shallow brooks and small streams running through cow pastures in this county are life savers to a few kinds of wintering birds when snow is on the ground. The running water keeps the muddy edges from freezing or being covered by snow. Wilson's snipe normally winter along those meadow waterways where they rapidly probe their long beaks like sewing machine needles in mud under shallow water to capture aquatic invertebrates. These inland sandpipers are well camouflaged in their exposed niche and are not usually seen until they fly.
Meanwhile, killdeer plovers, wintering American pipits from the tundra, and local song sparrows feed in the fields, until their foods of invertebrates and seeds are buried under snow. Then those three species of brownish birds join the snipe at brooks and streams to capture and ingest invertebrates from the mud and running water.
The sparrow-sized pipits constantly bob up and down as they walk along the shores of those small waterways to get invertebrate food. That bobbing is a mimicry of objects bouncing in the current so the pipits are undetected by predators, particularly small hawks.
These are a few ways wintering birds in this area cope with snow on the ground that blocks their getting their normal foods. Those birds adapt to other food sources until the snow melts away and their usual foods are available to them again.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Sandpipers Wintering in Mid-Atlantic States
Most sandpiper species winter farther south than the Middle Atlantic States. Farther south there is less chance of ice and snow impeding their finding invertebrates to eat. And although it's not obvious to most people, especially those living inland, at least seven kinds of sandpipers regularly winter in the Middle Atlantic States. They don't all winter in one habitat, however, but in at least five of them, along the Atlantic Ocean Coast and inland. But wherever they live, all these sandpipers blend into their environments to the point of being invisible until they move. Camouflage protects many kinds of creatures quite well.
Many dunlin and a few least sandpipers, both plain species of little birds that nest on the Arctic tundra, winter on the broad mud flats of channels in salt marshes along the seacoast. These sandpipers get invertebrates when the tide goes out, exposing the unfrozen, snow-free flats. And, by the way, a few least sandpipers winter along small waterways in inland meadows where the water and stream edges remain ice and snow-free.
Sanderlings are a small, light-colored sandpiper that rear young on the tundra and winter on ocean beaches where ocean water slides up and down the sand, keeping it snow-free and full of invertebrates to eat. Groups of sanderlings run up the beaches ahead of incoming wavelets, but run after the water as it slides down the beach to the ocean. As the water retreats again to the ocean, sanderlings pick up invertebrates to consume. And so the sanderlings run up and down the beaches all day, every day through winter.
Purple sandpipers and ruddy turnstones are darker sandpipers that, in winter, frequent human-made jetties of boulders that jut into the Atlantic Ocean from Mid-Atlantic beaches. The jetties' job is to prevent the erosion of the sandy beaches. Purple sandpipers and turnstones are adapted to getting invertebrates from rocky niches, where other shorebirds don't venture. These two types of sandpipers are dark in color, which camouflages them on the dark jetties and other rocky, coastal habitats.
Although most of them go farther south for the winter, a few each of greater yellowlegs and lesser yellowlegs, which do have yellow legs, winter around open water along the ocean shore and inland. These sandpiper species hatch offspring around lakes in Canada, which is a departure from the nesting habitats of most sandpipers. And these long-legged sandpipers, unlike most of their relatives, which are brown, are gray to blend into the water color they wade through the year around to get invertebrates.
Wilson's snipe are a kind of inland sandpiper that annually winters along running, ice-free brooks in meadows. They rapidly pump their long beaks up and down like a sewing machine needle in mud under shallow water to pull out invertebrates.
American woodcocks are sandpipers that live and nest on the leafy floors of bottomland woods. A few of them winter in that same habitat in the Middle Atlantic States. Woodcocks have long bills they probe into soft soil after earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates. When snow covers the ground, woodcocks resort to getting invertebrates from ice and snow-free springs, seeps and trickles in the woods.
These camouflaged and beautiful sandpiper species are the ones that most regularly winter in the Mid-Atlantic States. They winter on niches that are ice and snow-free so they can catch the invertebrates they need to survive. When out in winter, look for some of these sandpipers in their respective habitats.
Many dunlin and a few least sandpipers, both plain species of little birds that nest on the Arctic tundra, winter on the broad mud flats of channels in salt marshes along the seacoast. These sandpipers get invertebrates when the tide goes out, exposing the unfrozen, snow-free flats. And, by the way, a few least sandpipers winter along small waterways in inland meadows where the water and stream edges remain ice and snow-free.
Sanderlings are a small, light-colored sandpiper that rear young on the tundra and winter on ocean beaches where ocean water slides up and down the sand, keeping it snow-free and full of invertebrates to eat. Groups of sanderlings run up the beaches ahead of incoming wavelets, but run after the water as it slides down the beach to the ocean. As the water retreats again to the ocean, sanderlings pick up invertebrates to consume. And so the sanderlings run up and down the beaches all day, every day through winter.
Purple sandpipers and ruddy turnstones are darker sandpipers that, in winter, frequent human-made jetties of boulders that jut into the Atlantic Ocean from Mid-Atlantic beaches. The jetties' job is to prevent the erosion of the sandy beaches. Purple sandpipers and turnstones are adapted to getting invertebrates from rocky niches, where other shorebirds don't venture. These two types of sandpipers are dark in color, which camouflages them on the dark jetties and other rocky, coastal habitats.
Although most of them go farther south for the winter, a few each of greater yellowlegs and lesser yellowlegs, which do have yellow legs, winter around open water along the ocean shore and inland. These sandpiper species hatch offspring around lakes in Canada, which is a departure from the nesting habitats of most sandpipers. And these long-legged sandpipers, unlike most of their relatives, which are brown, are gray to blend into the water color they wade through the year around to get invertebrates.
Wilson's snipe are a kind of inland sandpiper that annually winters along running, ice-free brooks in meadows. They rapidly pump their long beaks up and down like a sewing machine needle in mud under shallow water to pull out invertebrates.
American woodcocks are sandpipers that live and nest on the leafy floors of bottomland woods. A few of them winter in that same habitat in the Middle Atlantic States. Woodcocks have long bills they probe into soft soil after earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates. When snow covers the ground, woodcocks resort to getting invertebrates from ice and snow-free springs, seeps and trickles in the woods.
These camouflaged and beautiful sandpiper species are the ones that most regularly winter in the Mid-Atlantic States. They winter on niches that are ice and snow-free so they can catch the invertebrates they need to survive. When out in winter, look for some of these sandpipers in their respective habitats.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Fish Crows and Boat-tailed Grackles
In the middle of April a couple of years ago, my wife and I visited Charleston, South Carolina for a couple of days. And seeing a nesting colony of boat-tailed grackles along a waterfront in that city was one of my most memorable experiences. The grackles were everywhere, in the trees where they had nurseries, on streets, lawns salt marshes, beaches and a pavilion where they were getting some types of food. The long-legged birds were strutting about to find food and court each other. And I constantly heard their harsh calls as they walked about.
We also saw lots of boat-tails in the Florida Everglades several years ago. We stopped at a restaurant in the middle of the Everglades and ate outside where we saw those grackles walking around and looking for anything edible to drop to the floor. They reminded me of rock pigeons scavenging food in city streets and along ocean boardwalks.
I've seen fish crows fairly often over the years. There are some in inland Lancaster County, Pennsylvania where I live. And I sometimes see them along the Susquehanna and Delaware Rivers and often along the Chesapeake Bay, particularly at Northeast, Maryland, where there seems to be a constant, noisy colony of them.
Though they are members of different families of birds, I think fish crows and boat-tailed grackles have some characteristics in common. Male boat-tails look like skinny fish crows; about 16 inches long and with black feathering. But the grackles' plumage has much purple iridescence. Female boat-tailed grackles are tawny-brown and half the size of the males of their species. But both boat-tail genders have long, thin bodies and long beaks, legs and tails. Males' tails are keeled, hence the species' common name.
Fish crows and boat-tailed grackles are permanent residents along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts from Long Island to Louisiana, on the shores of Chesapeake and Delaware Bays and most of lower Florida from coast to coast. Colonies of fish crows also live inland, mostly along rivers.
Both these species are omnivorous scavengers that will eat almost anything edible, including invertebrates, crayfish, small fish, tadpoles, grain, berries, fruit and garbage from parking lots and dumpsters. And both these species are adaptable and feed along streets in cities and towns.
Fish crows look almost exactly like American crows, but are a little smaller and thinner. And fish crows have a more nasal cawing. Fish crows travel around in flocks to look for food.
Male and female boat-tailed grackles, though different in appearance, are both handsome birds. They live in coastal salt marshes, along inland estuaries and inlets and in towns and cities. Colonies of boat-tails nest in trees. In boat-tail society, only a few males do most of the mating. Males are twice the size of their mates because they compete with other males for the right to breed. The bigger, stronger males get most of the girls:Natural selection in operation.
Boat-tails utter a hoarse, high-pitched "jeeb" and other chatters and squeaks. Their notes are distinctive, even among their grackle relatives, such as the inland purple grackles.
Fish crows and boat-tailed grackles are somewhat similar in appearance and habits. They are interesting to experience in their varied habitats.
We also saw lots of boat-tails in the Florida Everglades several years ago. We stopped at a restaurant in the middle of the Everglades and ate outside where we saw those grackles walking around and looking for anything edible to drop to the floor. They reminded me of rock pigeons scavenging food in city streets and along ocean boardwalks.
I've seen fish crows fairly often over the years. There are some in inland Lancaster County, Pennsylvania where I live. And I sometimes see them along the Susquehanna and Delaware Rivers and often along the Chesapeake Bay, particularly at Northeast, Maryland, where there seems to be a constant, noisy colony of them.
Though they are members of different families of birds, I think fish crows and boat-tailed grackles have some characteristics in common. Male boat-tails look like skinny fish crows; about 16 inches long and with black feathering. But the grackles' plumage has much purple iridescence. Female boat-tailed grackles are tawny-brown and half the size of the males of their species. But both boat-tail genders have long, thin bodies and long beaks, legs and tails. Males' tails are keeled, hence the species' common name.
Fish crows and boat-tailed grackles are permanent residents along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts from Long Island to Louisiana, on the shores of Chesapeake and Delaware Bays and most of lower Florida from coast to coast. Colonies of fish crows also live inland, mostly along rivers.
Both these species are omnivorous scavengers that will eat almost anything edible, including invertebrates, crayfish, small fish, tadpoles, grain, berries, fruit and garbage from parking lots and dumpsters. And both these species are adaptable and feed along streets in cities and towns.
Fish crows look almost exactly like American crows, but are a little smaller and thinner. And fish crows have a more nasal cawing. Fish crows travel around in flocks to look for food.
Male and female boat-tailed grackles, though different in appearance, are both handsome birds. They live in coastal salt marshes, along inland estuaries and inlets and in towns and cities. Colonies of boat-tails nest in trees. In boat-tail society, only a few males do most of the mating. Males are twice the size of their mates because they compete with other males for the right to breed. The bigger, stronger males get most of the girls:Natural selection in operation.
Boat-tails utter a hoarse, high-pitched "jeeb" and other chatters and squeaks. Their notes are distinctive, even among their grackle relatives, such as the inland purple grackles.
Fish crows and boat-tailed grackles are somewhat similar in appearance and habits. They are interesting to experience in their varied habitats.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Kestrels and Kingfishers
Today on a short field trip in the farm country around New Holland, Pennsylvania, I saw among other kinds of birds, two each of American kestrels and belted kingfishers. Thinking about those two species of birds, I realized again they have a lot of interesting traits in common, though they are from different families of birds. And, because of their diverse niches, they have some differences, too.
Both species are common in this part of Pennsylvania. As species, both are here the year around, though its usually only male kingfishers here in winter. Both nest in cavities in farmland in this area. They are about the size of blue jays, but a bit chunkier. They are shaped differently from each other, but built for what they do. And both either perch on tree twigs, or wires, or hover on rapidly beating wings into the wind as they watch for prey.
American kestrels are the smallest of falcons, a branch of the hawk family in this part of North America. The beautiful kestrels are adapted to open country, including cropland in southeastern Pennsylvania. They hunt mice and larger insects along roadsides and hedgerows, and in abandoned fields in the warmer months and mice and small birds in those same habitats in winter. They drop from perches or the air to snare victims in their sharp talons.
Kestrels hatch young in tree cavities in cropland. And they also rear offspring in barns and other buildings, as well as in nesting boxes erected in fields especially for them.
Belted kingfishers dig upward slanting tunnels near the tops of streambanks in which they raise offspring. Their burrows slant up so the young are less likely to drown if flood waters occur.
Kingfishers hunt by waterways and human-made impoundments and catch little fish, crayfish, tadpoles and other small, aquatic creatures. When victims are spotted, kingfishers dive head-first into the water and grab the prey in their large, black beaks.
Kingfishers are blue-gray above and white below, with a shaggy crest on top of their heads. Each individual has a blue-gray band across the chest and females also have a chestnut one across their chests.
Kestrels and kingfishers sometimes fall prey to Cooper's hawks that adapted to agricultural habitats. Kestrels were reduced in numbers in part by Cooper's hawks in recent years. But this winter I've noticed more of them on roadside wires than I have in the recent past. And I once saw a Coop's chasing a kingfisher around a pond, although I don't know what the final outcome was.
Look for the common and interesting kestrels and kingfishers this winter, or anytime of year. They are neat parts of local avifauna the year around.
Both species are common in this part of Pennsylvania. As species, both are here the year around, though its usually only male kingfishers here in winter. Both nest in cavities in farmland in this area. They are about the size of blue jays, but a bit chunkier. They are shaped differently from each other, but built for what they do. And both either perch on tree twigs, or wires, or hover on rapidly beating wings into the wind as they watch for prey.
American kestrels are the smallest of falcons, a branch of the hawk family in this part of North America. The beautiful kestrels are adapted to open country, including cropland in southeastern Pennsylvania. They hunt mice and larger insects along roadsides and hedgerows, and in abandoned fields in the warmer months and mice and small birds in those same habitats in winter. They drop from perches or the air to snare victims in their sharp talons.
Kestrels hatch young in tree cavities in cropland. And they also rear offspring in barns and other buildings, as well as in nesting boxes erected in fields especially for them.
Belted kingfishers dig upward slanting tunnels near the tops of streambanks in which they raise offspring. Their burrows slant up so the young are less likely to drown if flood waters occur.
Kingfishers hunt by waterways and human-made impoundments and catch little fish, crayfish, tadpoles and other small, aquatic creatures. When victims are spotted, kingfishers dive head-first into the water and grab the prey in their large, black beaks.
Kingfishers are blue-gray above and white below, with a shaggy crest on top of their heads. Each individual has a blue-gray band across the chest and females also have a chestnut one across their chests.
Kestrels and kingfishers sometimes fall prey to Cooper's hawks that adapted to agricultural habitats. Kestrels were reduced in numbers in part by Cooper's hawks in recent years. But this winter I've noticed more of them on roadside wires than I have in the recent past. And I once saw a Coop's chasing a kingfisher around a pond, although I don't know what the final outcome was.
Look for the common and interesting kestrels and kingfishers this winter, or anytime of year. They are neat parts of local avifauna the year around.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Sheep in a Stony Pasture
Today, January 20, 2016, I drove along a Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland road and saw a flock of about 16 sheep in a two-acre meadow. But to me, these were not ordinary sheep or a usual pasture in this county. The sheep had brown and creamy-white blotched wool, horns and long, woolly tails. And the meadow was on a steep, stony slope, with sparse grass and a few dead or mostly dead trees.
Someone was making the best use of a rugged habitat. It could not be cultivated and cattle would not do well on that steep hill, but sheep and/or goats, being smaller and adapted to such rocky conditions with short grass on hills, flourish in such environments. The related sheep and goats have teeth that can nibble much shorter grass than cattle can, allowing them to graze where cattle couldn't. And the two toes of sheep and goats cling to rocky slopes better than the two toes on cows and their relatives.
Those sheep looked wild in a more natural habitat for them, something one doesn't see much in this county of good soil, for the most part. To me those sheep in their rough pasture were quite picturesque, as if they really were wild sheep. This is a scene one doesn't see much in southeastern Pennsylvania with its mostly fertile soil on mostly flat ground.
While I was there, a ewe gave birth to a lamb in 25 degree weather. Undaunted by the temperature, however, the lamb soon wobbled to its feet and took a few steps to its mother's udder to get milk while the attentive and gentle mother continually licked her newborn dry and clean. Looking around, I saw three other black and white lambs that couldn't be more than a few days old. Thinking back over the years, I've seen other patches of grass-scarce pastures on rocky slopes that were grazed by sheep or goats. But these sheep and their rugged setting were particularly interesting to me.
Someone was making the best use of a rugged habitat. It could not be cultivated and cattle would not do well on that steep hill, but sheep and/or goats, being smaller and adapted to such rocky conditions with short grass on hills, flourish in such environments. The related sheep and goats have teeth that can nibble much shorter grass than cattle can, allowing them to graze where cattle couldn't. And the two toes of sheep and goats cling to rocky slopes better than the two toes on cows and their relatives.
Those sheep looked wild in a more natural habitat for them, something one doesn't see much in this county of good soil, for the most part. To me those sheep in their rough pasture were quite picturesque, as if they really were wild sheep. This is a scene one doesn't see much in southeastern Pennsylvania with its mostly fertile soil on mostly flat ground.
While I was there, a ewe gave birth to a lamb in 25 degree weather. Undaunted by the temperature, however, the lamb soon wobbled to its feet and took a few steps to its mother's udder to get milk while the attentive and gentle mother continually licked her newborn dry and clean. Looking around, I saw three other black and white lambs that couldn't be more than a few days old. Thinking back over the years, I've seen other patches of grass-scarce pastures on rocky slopes that were grazed by sheep or goats. But these sheep and their rugged setting were particularly interesting to me.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Birds in a Sheltered Farmland Valley
Having just finished my article in this blog titled BIRDS IN A SHELTERING WOODLOT, I remembered the birds I saw in an hour and a half's time one morning last week in a shallow, little valley in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland. This small valley, with a brook running through it, harbors a cow pasture. The northwestern corner of this valley has a two-acre woodlot of large trees on a sheltering slope and the eastern edge of the valley is protected by an apple orchard on a hill. The pasture itself has a few thickets of multiflora rose and other shrubbery, and vines that offer protection to birds and other species of wildlife. A country road runs through this little hollow, giving it easy access.
Because of the woodlot, orchard and thickets in the meadow, there sometimes is a surprising diversity of bird species in this small valley, including in winter. Wintering woodland birds I saw there last week were a pair each of Carolina chickadees and tufted titmice, a white-breasted nuthatch, a downy woodpecker, a red-bellied woodpecker, a yellow-shafted flicker, four or five blue jays and a red-tailed hawk. All these species,except the flicker, are permanent residents.
The chickadees, titmice, nuthatches and various woodpecker species get invertebrate food from the trees in winter, but in different ways on different parts of the trees. The chickadees and titmice eat invertebrates and their eggs from the buds and twigs by walking about on them. Nuthatches probe for insects and their eggs in crevices in bark, while the woodpeckers chip away the bark of dead wood to drill into that wood to snare invertebrates.
Jays eat a lot of acorns and berries they find in woodlands and their edges. Jays also put acorns in the ground and tree hollows to eat in winter when food might be scarce. The striking jays I saw that winter morning last week were mostly drinking from and bathing in the flowing brook in the pasture.
The stately red-tail was perched high in a tree to watch for gray squirrels and white-footed mice in the woods. Red-tails prey on those rodents through the year.
Several kinds of small, seed-eating birds were in this sheltered valley because of the thickets of shrubs and vines that protect them from predators and the weather. They included little flocks of permanent resident house sparrows, house finches and American goldfinches, a couple pairs of resident northern cardinals and a couple of resident song sparrows. The male cardinals were striking, but their mates were just as pretty in a plainer way.
And there were little groups of two kinds of wintering, seed-eating species among the thickets, including white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos. The white-throats have black and white striped crowns and white throat patches that identify them. The juncos are dark-gray above, white below and have two white outer tail feathers that form a white V when the birds fly. Both these species nest farther north than Lancaster County.
One or two individual, resident northern mockingbirds and, sometimes, a small group of eastern bluebirds are in this valley to consume berries from the multiflora rose bushes and other shrubbery.
The mockers try to defend "their" clumps of berry bushes from other bird species, but sometimes to no avail. The beautiful bluebirds are a delight to see in sunny meadows anytime, including in winter.
There are several of these partly-bushy pastures in sheltering, little valleys in the local area. They each have several types of birds in them in winter because of the protection they offer from cold wind and weather. Look for food, water and shelter together anytime of year when searching for birds. And it's fun not only to see the birds, but to know why they are where they are.
Because of the woodlot, orchard and thickets in the meadow, there sometimes is a surprising diversity of bird species in this small valley, including in winter. Wintering woodland birds I saw there last week were a pair each of Carolina chickadees and tufted titmice, a white-breasted nuthatch, a downy woodpecker, a red-bellied woodpecker, a yellow-shafted flicker, four or five blue jays and a red-tailed hawk. All these species,except the flicker, are permanent residents.
The chickadees, titmice, nuthatches and various woodpecker species get invertebrate food from the trees in winter, but in different ways on different parts of the trees. The chickadees and titmice eat invertebrates and their eggs from the buds and twigs by walking about on them. Nuthatches probe for insects and their eggs in crevices in bark, while the woodpeckers chip away the bark of dead wood to drill into that wood to snare invertebrates.
Jays eat a lot of acorns and berries they find in woodlands and their edges. Jays also put acorns in the ground and tree hollows to eat in winter when food might be scarce. The striking jays I saw that winter morning last week were mostly drinking from and bathing in the flowing brook in the pasture.
The stately red-tail was perched high in a tree to watch for gray squirrels and white-footed mice in the woods. Red-tails prey on those rodents through the year.
Several kinds of small, seed-eating birds were in this sheltered valley because of the thickets of shrubs and vines that protect them from predators and the weather. They included little flocks of permanent resident house sparrows, house finches and American goldfinches, a couple pairs of resident northern cardinals and a couple of resident song sparrows. The male cardinals were striking, but their mates were just as pretty in a plainer way.
And there were little groups of two kinds of wintering, seed-eating species among the thickets, including white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos. The white-throats have black and white striped crowns and white throat patches that identify them. The juncos are dark-gray above, white below and have two white outer tail feathers that form a white V when the birds fly. Both these species nest farther north than Lancaster County.
One or two individual, resident northern mockingbirds and, sometimes, a small group of eastern bluebirds are in this valley to consume berries from the multiflora rose bushes and other shrubbery.
The mockers try to defend "their" clumps of berry bushes from other bird species, but sometimes to no avail. The beautiful bluebirds are a delight to see in sunny meadows anytime, including in winter.
There are several of these partly-bushy pastures in sheltering, little valleys in the local area. They each have several types of birds in them in winter because of the protection they offer from cold wind and weather. Look for food, water and shelter together anytime of year when searching for birds. And it's fun not only to see the birds, but to know why they are where they are.
Birds in a Sheltering Woodlot
Today was bitter cold and windy, but sunny. I thought the best place to see small birds today would be the southern side of a woodland and thickets that blocked the north wind. The birds would be protected from the cold wind, but in the warming sunlight. I occasionally visit the southern edge of a small, bottomland woods along a country road near my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania and went there today for a couple of hours to see how small birds were coping with the uncomfortable weather.
A small variety of seed-eating birds were the first species I saw while sitting in my car and looking into the woods with my 16 power binoculars. Those species included about a score of restless white-throated sparrows, two pairs of cardinals, a song sparrow and a few American goldfinches. The white-throats and the song sparrow were scratching among the dead leaves on the woodland floor for seeds and invertebrates. And they were poking among the grasses of a tiny clearing on the edge of that opening for the same kinds of food. A couple white-throats bathed in slow, inch-deep water on the edge of a stream flowing gently through the woods.
The striking cardinals rested out of the wind in the thickets of shrubbery and vines, and on a sun-drenched bank on the north side of the stream. They didn't move around much as if they were satisfied with their little, sunny shelters.
The pretty goldfinches were picking seeds out of still-standing stalks of weeds and tall grasses in the sheltering, sun-filled thickets. One of them drank and bathed in a bit of shallow water.
I saw a few each of woodland birds while I was sitting in my car on the edge of that little woodland. A few Carolina chickadees ate seeds from a weeds in the sheltering thickets. A tufted titmouse passed through the woods in front of me, but flew out of sight.
Surprisingly, three yellow-shafted flickers, which are a kind of woodpecker, were chipping into dead wood to pull out invertebrates. Most flickers fly farther south for the winter, so I didn't expect to see that many in one place. But these three were concentrated on the south side of a woods that blocked much of the uncomfortable wind.
I also saw a downy woodpecker and a red-bellied in those sun-filled woods. These are both permanent resident species that don't migrate, but spend their lives close to where they hatched.
A male belted kingfisher flew close to me while checking the stream for minnows, suckers and young sunfish. Again, this bird was perched out of the wind, for the most part, but in the warming sunlight while watching for a meal.
Ways of finding birds to observe are to look for their food and water sources, in places where they are relatively safe, or out of uncomfortable, even dangerous, weather, such as killer winter winds. Today I thought "where would birds most likely be, considering the strong, cold wind". I went to such a spot, and there some species were carrying out their daily business of food gathering.
A small variety of seed-eating birds were the first species I saw while sitting in my car and looking into the woods with my 16 power binoculars. Those species included about a score of restless white-throated sparrows, two pairs of cardinals, a song sparrow and a few American goldfinches. The white-throats and the song sparrow were scratching among the dead leaves on the woodland floor for seeds and invertebrates. And they were poking among the grasses of a tiny clearing on the edge of that opening for the same kinds of food. A couple white-throats bathed in slow, inch-deep water on the edge of a stream flowing gently through the woods.
The striking cardinals rested out of the wind in the thickets of shrubbery and vines, and on a sun-drenched bank on the north side of the stream. They didn't move around much as if they were satisfied with their little, sunny shelters.
The pretty goldfinches were picking seeds out of still-standing stalks of weeds and tall grasses in the sheltering, sun-filled thickets. One of them drank and bathed in a bit of shallow water.
I saw a few each of woodland birds while I was sitting in my car on the edge of that little woodland. A few Carolina chickadees ate seeds from a weeds in the sheltering thickets. A tufted titmouse passed through the woods in front of me, but flew out of sight.
Surprisingly, three yellow-shafted flickers, which are a kind of woodpecker, were chipping into dead wood to pull out invertebrates. Most flickers fly farther south for the winter, so I didn't expect to see that many in one place. But these three were concentrated on the south side of a woods that blocked much of the uncomfortable wind.
I also saw a downy woodpecker and a red-bellied in those sun-filled woods. These are both permanent resident species that don't migrate, but spend their lives close to where they hatched.
A male belted kingfisher flew close to me while checking the stream for minnows, suckers and young sunfish. Again, this bird was perched out of the wind, for the most part, but in the warming sunlight while watching for a meal.
Ways of finding birds to observe are to look for their food and water sources, in places where they are relatively safe, or out of uncomfortable, even dangerous, weather, such as killer winter winds. Today I thought "where would birds most likely be, considering the strong, cold wind". I went to such a spot, and there some species were carrying out their daily business of food gathering.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Mallards, Herons and Backyard Ponds
The adaptable mallard ducks and great blue herons are common in many watery habitats in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere. And both these species visit backyard goldfish ponds, including ours.
Mallards are almost everywhere there is water in farmland and suburban areas. Every spring pairs of pretty mallards are in our neighborhood, including perched on the peaks of house roofs and walking over lawns. A pair of mallards came to our lawn every spring for about five years to shovel up grain under our bird feeder, rest on our lawn and swim happily in our 100 gallon goldfish pond. It was always interesting to see these wild ducks swimming above our goldfish.
And one day early in March one year, the hen mallard began a clutch of eggs under one of our bushes on our lawn. I saw the eggs when there were only three of them and watched discreetly as the number climbed, one a day, to twelve and the hen began to set on them. Knowing it takes 28 days for duck eggs to hatch, I could mark on a calendar when the hen and her ducklings would leave their grassy nursery on the ground. I forget the exact date, but it was toward the end of April.
The morning of that day I noticed the mother mallard was lookinig around nervously. Suddenly, she emerged from under the shrub, followed by a winding stream of fuzz; 12 cute, little ducklings. They flowed quickly out of our yard and gone, presumably walking a quarter mile to a farm pond.
Many mallard hens hatch ducklings in sheltered places on the ground on lawns and in the courtyards of schools, churches and other buildings. This practice gives the species more nesting places and an increase in population.
Ducklings that hatch in courtyards are safe from ground predators, but must be chased through the buildings to the outside world so they can find ample food and grow up. Their mothers move along with their youngsters and lead them away from the buildings and to a source of water and food where the ducklings can mature.
One morning in March of another year, I went to our backyard pond to feed the goldfish, as I had every few days through winter. We have a heater in the pond that keeps the water from freezing. But when I looked into the pond, I saw no fish! I was shocked!
Late in the afternoon a few days later, I was in our front yard and saw a great blue heron flying low and majestically up our street, soar gracefully over our house on giant wings, circle our back yard once and land in a tall Norway spruce tree in a neighbor's backyard. The neighbor saw the great blue, too, and asked me if I saw it standing by our pond a few days before. I said I didn't. But I then knew what happened to our goldfish. That magnificent heron ate them.
Apparently, the heron was migrating north and either saw the spruce as an overnight roosting place and saw the fish later, or saw the pond and its fish first, caught and consumed them, then roosted a few nights in the spruce. Either way, our goldfish were replaced by that predatory heron!
I later learned that several people lost goldfish and koi in backyard ponds to great blue herons. We now have a small-holed net over our pond to prevent herons' eating our fish.
Great blues are adaptable, and successful in getting food. Mostly catching fish, tadpoles and frogs, they also ingest ducklings, mice and other critters.
It's interesting to watch these tall, gray herons snaring mice in meadows near water. The herons' beaks pressing on those little rodents quickly kills them. Then the herons walk each mouse to water, dunk it a few times to slick its fur, and swallow it whole and head-first.
Mallards and great blues are handsome, adaptable and common throughout most of North America. But I think they are most intriguing in our own backyard, especially around our goldfish pond.
Mallards are almost everywhere there is water in farmland and suburban areas. Every spring pairs of pretty mallards are in our neighborhood, including perched on the peaks of house roofs and walking over lawns. A pair of mallards came to our lawn every spring for about five years to shovel up grain under our bird feeder, rest on our lawn and swim happily in our 100 gallon goldfish pond. It was always interesting to see these wild ducks swimming above our goldfish.
And one day early in March one year, the hen mallard began a clutch of eggs under one of our bushes on our lawn. I saw the eggs when there were only three of them and watched discreetly as the number climbed, one a day, to twelve and the hen began to set on them. Knowing it takes 28 days for duck eggs to hatch, I could mark on a calendar when the hen and her ducklings would leave their grassy nursery on the ground. I forget the exact date, but it was toward the end of April.
The morning of that day I noticed the mother mallard was lookinig around nervously. Suddenly, she emerged from under the shrub, followed by a winding stream of fuzz; 12 cute, little ducklings. They flowed quickly out of our yard and gone, presumably walking a quarter mile to a farm pond.
Many mallard hens hatch ducklings in sheltered places on the ground on lawns and in the courtyards of schools, churches and other buildings. This practice gives the species more nesting places and an increase in population.
Ducklings that hatch in courtyards are safe from ground predators, but must be chased through the buildings to the outside world so they can find ample food and grow up. Their mothers move along with their youngsters and lead them away from the buildings and to a source of water and food where the ducklings can mature.
One morning in March of another year, I went to our backyard pond to feed the goldfish, as I had every few days through winter. We have a heater in the pond that keeps the water from freezing. But when I looked into the pond, I saw no fish! I was shocked!
Late in the afternoon a few days later, I was in our front yard and saw a great blue heron flying low and majestically up our street, soar gracefully over our house on giant wings, circle our back yard once and land in a tall Norway spruce tree in a neighbor's backyard. The neighbor saw the great blue, too, and asked me if I saw it standing by our pond a few days before. I said I didn't. But I then knew what happened to our goldfish. That magnificent heron ate them.
Apparently, the heron was migrating north and either saw the spruce as an overnight roosting place and saw the fish later, or saw the pond and its fish first, caught and consumed them, then roosted a few nights in the spruce. Either way, our goldfish were replaced by that predatory heron!
I later learned that several people lost goldfish and koi in backyard ponds to great blue herons. We now have a small-holed net over our pond to prevent herons' eating our fish.
Great blues are adaptable, and successful in getting food. Mostly catching fish, tadpoles and frogs, they also ingest ducklings, mice and other critters.
It's interesting to watch these tall, gray herons snaring mice in meadows near water. The herons' beaks pressing on those little rodents quickly kills them. Then the herons walk each mouse to water, dunk it a few times to slick its fur, and swallow it whole and head-first.
Mallards and great blues are handsome, adaptable and common throughout most of North America. But I think they are most intriguing in our own backyard, especially around our goldfish pond.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Geese in Flight
Early this afternoon I went to the Coatesville Reservoir to see what kinds of waterfowl and other wildlife was visible. As usual, there were several hundreds of Canada geese in the middle of the lake and a few each of black ducks and mallard ducks basking in the sunlight on the woods protected, northern shore. I didn't see much else at the time, but the geese started to lift off the lake, group after noisy group, to feed somewhere. And, as luck would have it, they came down on the short-grass lawn of the Coatesville Country Club golf course, only a couple hundred yards away from the reservoir. Each flock only took a minute to leave its watery roost, fly to the golf course and land on its lawn dining table. Apparently, no golfers were out at the time.
Each flock of Canadas, in its turn, ran across the water for several yards, into the wind for greater lift, amid much excited honking, and took flight into the wind, still bugling loudly. Each flock continued to power into the wind for lift over the planted white pines around the lake, the country road I was sitting beside and the planted conifers and oaks on the golf course. The lake, lawn and the sky between them was alive with noisy Canada geese. It was inspiring to see flock after flock of geese in long lines above and beyond the trees.
The flight of the geese was not direct between the lake and the lawn. Because they flew into the wind, they overshot the lawn, had to come back and then turn into the wind again for better flight control while landing. Their flight patterns were like a large S lying on its side. And they all took off, flew and landed without collision with each other or other objects. They are masters of group flight, as they need to be to live in their great gatherings. The group behavior of Canada geese is always well organized, especially in flight where it needs to be for their safety in the air.
The masses of Canada geese on the short-grass lawn looked like an army, marching slowly forward in lines in all directions, plucking blades of grass as they went. And when they are full, they'll go back to the lake to roost in safety, flock after flock, just as they left the water, but in reverse.
As I was about to leave the lake area to go home, a few gangs of Canadas were leaving the lawn and returning to the lake to rest. They landed on the water, into the wind, for better flight control, which is essential to them. Then, suddenly, something must have frightened the geese because most of them took off from the lawn with a great roar of voices and landed on the reservoir. The few geese still on the lawn were at attention with heads up to look around.
This interesting, inspiring scene was possible because of peoples' activities. We created the lake and lawn the adaptable Canadas adjusted to and use to their own benefit. But that scene is still wild and always exciting, no matter how many times we experience it.
Each flock of Canadas, in its turn, ran across the water for several yards, into the wind for greater lift, amid much excited honking, and took flight into the wind, still bugling loudly. Each flock continued to power into the wind for lift over the planted white pines around the lake, the country road I was sitting beside and the planted conifers and oaks on the golf course. The lake, lawn and the sky between them was alive with noisy Canada geese. It was inspiring to see flock after flock of geese in long lines above and beyond the trees.
The flight of the geese was not direct between the lake and the lawn. Because they flew into the wind, they overshot the lawn, had to come back and then turn into the wind again for better flight control while landing. Their flight patterns were like a large S lying on its side. And they all took off, flew and landed without collision with each other or other objects. They are masters of group flight, as they need to be to live in their great gatherings. The group behavior of Canada geese is always well organized, especially in flight where it needs to be for their safety in the air.
The masses of Canada geese on the short-grass lawn looked like an army, marching slowly forward in lines in all directions, plucking blades of grass as they went. And when they are full, they'll go back to the lake to roost in safety, flock after flock, just as they left the water, but in reverse.
As I was about to leave the lake area to go home, a few gangs of Canadas were leaving the lawn and returning to the lake to rest. They landed on the water, into the wind, for better flight control, which is essential to them. Then, suddenly, something must have frightened the geese because most of them took off from the lawn with a great roar of voices and landed on the reservoir. The few geese still on the lawn were at attention with heads up to look around.
This interesting, inspiring scene was possible because of peoples' activities. We created the lake and lawn the adaptable Canadas adjusted to and use to their own benefit. But that scene is still wild and always exciting, no matter how many times we experience it.
Life Along Expressways
I have driven on expressways in southeastern Pennsylvania many times over the years and noticed a variety of outstanding plants growing on what had been disturbed soil on the banks and shoulders of those roadways. But today I decided to tally the plant species of interest to me as I drove by them.
All these plants are successional species that pioneer disturbed soil, holding it in place with their roots and enriching it with their fallen leaves and other parts that decay into the ground. And they grow unimpeded by mowing or plowing in many stretches of those roadsides, providing food and cover for mice, small birds, hawks, skunks and many other kinds of wildlife.
Four species of trees are outstanding on those disturbed, but recovering roadsides, including red junipers, Bradford pears, staghorn sumacs and ailanthus. Junipers are a kind of native conifer that has evergreen needles but strange cones. Their masses of pale-blue cones are berry-like. But if examined closely, one can see the few faint scales on them. A variety of birds, including starlings, cedar waxwings, American robins, eastern bluebirds and others, feed on those cones through winter, adding their feathered beauties to those of the junipers. Those birds digest the pulp of the cones, but pass the seeds in their droppings, thus spreading junipers across the countryside.
Alien Bradford pear trees escaped captivity as an ornamental planting on lawns and along city streets by birds eating their fruits and passing their seeds far and wide. Groves of this species grow in abandoned places, such as roadsides. This type of tree has striking red and maroon foliage in November, helping to make it an attractive tree. And it provides abundant food for wildlife of many kinds, including rodents, birds, opossums and other species. Red-tailed hawks and American kestrels perch in trees to watch the roadsides for vulnerable rodents to catch and eat.
Staghorn sumacs are small, native trees that have red leaves by September and into October, adding more beauty to the roadsides. On top of their twigs, they have attractive, pyramid-shaped clusters of red, velvety seeds that are again consumed by rodents and small birds, birds that, again, spread the inner seeds around in their droppings.
Ailanthus trees are from Asia, but were planted in big city streets in the United States because their leaves can resist air pollution. However, because female ailanthus have orange seeds that float away on the wind, this tree has spread across the countryside, including along expressways where they are usually ignored.
It's interesting to me that many low spots along the expressway shoulders that are always wet or moist have wetland plants growing in them, most notably patches of cattails, phragmites, and crack willow trees. Cattail and phragmites seed heads are quite attractive, particularly in winter when they are more noticeable. Phragmites seed heads are fluffy-looking, especially when sunlight shines through them. Cattails provide cover for nesting red-winged blackbirds and song sparrows. And muskrats eat cattail roots and stems and use them to make their homes. Mallard ducks sometimes land on roadside puddles to ingest aquatic vegetation.
Broom grass and foxtail grass are attractive along roadsides, particularly in winter when they are most noticeable. Clumps of broom grass are orange-yellow and seem to glow in sunlight. Patches of foxtail grass are pale-yellow and have obvious seed heads in winter that are loaded with seeds and do look like foxes' tails. The grass seeds, and those of roadside common milkweeds, goldenrods, asters, evening primrose and other seed-producing, wild plants feed mice and seed-eating birds such as sparrows and finches all winter.
And there are many stretches of expressway shoulders and banks that have been planted to short grass that is regularly mowed. Though we might think those manicured parts of roadsides are a waste of space to wildlife, they are not. Cottontail rabbits, wood chucks, and, in places, white-tailed deer come out of roadside thickets to graze on that grass, within yards of the expressway. Groups of starlings and American robins drop to those roadside lawns to eat invertebrates out of the short grass. And flocks of honking Canada geese land on those roadside lawns to eat the grass itself. All that is well for the wildlife and us, as long as the critters stay out of the fast-moving traffic.
When riding along an expressway, watch for the many wild plants and animals that can be seen along them. they can make a ride more interesting.
All these plants are successional species that pioneer disturbed soil, holding it in place with their roots and enriching it with their fallen leaves and other parts that decay into the ground. And they grow unimpeded by mowing or plowing in many stretches of those roadsides, providing food and cover for mice, small birds, hawks, skunks and many other kinds of wildlife.
Four species of trees are outstanding on those disturbed, but recovering roadsides, including red junipers, Bradford pears, staghorn sumacs and ailanthus. Junipers are a kind of native conifer that has evergreen needles but strange cones. Their masses of pale-blue cones are berry-like. But if examined closely, one can see the few faint scales on them. A variety of birds, including starlings, cedar waxwings, American robins, eastern bluebirds and others, feed on those cones through winter, adding their feathered beauties to those of the junipers. Those birds digest the pulp of the cones, but pass the seeds in their droppings, thus spreading junipers across the countryside.
Alien Bradford pear trees escaped captivity as an ornamental planting on lawns and along city streets by birds eating their fruits and passing their seeds far and wide. Groves of this species grow in abandoned places, such as roadsides. This type of tree has striking red and maroon foliage in November, helping to make it an attractive tree. And it provides abundant food for wildlife of many kinds, including rodents, birds, opossums and other species. Red-tailed hawks and American kestrels perch in trees to watch the roadsides for vulnerable rodents to catch and eat.
Staghorn sumacs are small, native trees that have red leaves by September and into October, adding more beauty to the roadsides. On top of their twigs, they have attractive, pyramid-shaped clusters of red, velvety seeds that are again consumed by rodents and small birds, birds that, again, spread the inner seeds around in their droppings.
Ailanthus trees are from Asia, but were planted in big city streets in the United States because their leaves can resist air pollution. However, because female ailanthus have orange seeds that float away on the wind, this tree has spread across the countryside, including along expressways where they are usually ignored.
It's interesting to me that many low spots along the expressway shoulders that are always wet or moist have wetland plants growing in them, most notably patches of cattails, phragmites, and crack willow trees. Cattail and phragmites seed heads are quite attractive, particularly in winter when they are more noticeable. Phragmites seed heads are fluffy-looking, especially when sunlight shines through them. Cattails provide cover for nesting red-winged blackbirds and song sparrows. And muskrats eat cattail roots and stems and use them to make their homes. Mallard ducks sometimes land on roadside puddles to ingest aquatic vegetation.
Broom grass and foxtail grass are attractive along roadsides, particularly in winter when they are most noticeable. Clumps of broom grass are orange-yellow and seem to glow in sunlight. Patches of foxtail grass are pale-yellow and have obvious seed heads in winter that are loaded with seeds and do look like foxes' tails. The grass seeds, and those of roadside common milkweeds, goldenrods, asters, evening primrose and other seed-producing, wild plants feed mice and seed-eating birds such as sparrows and finches all winter.
And there are many stretches of expressway shoulders and banks that have been planted to short grass that is regularly mowed. Though we might think those manicured parts of roadsides are a waste of space to wildlife, they are not. Cottontail rabbits, wood chucks, and, in places, white-tailed deer come out of roadside thickets to graze on that grass, within yards of the expressway. Groups of starlings and American robins drop to those roadside lawns to eat invertebrates out of the short grass. And flocks of honking Canada geese land on those roadside lawns to eat the grass itself. All that is well for the wildlife and us, as long as the critters stay out of the fast-moving traffic.
When riding along an expressway, watch for the many wild plants and animals that can be seen along them. they can make a ride more interesting.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Mill Creek Meadow Thickets
Driving home to New Holland, Pennsylvania one sunny afternoon early in January, I stopped on a small bridge over Mill Creek a mile south of New Holland to absorb the beauty of an overgrown meadow planted with sycamore and river birch trees and red-twigged dogwood shrubs, all plants that do best in constantly moist soil. Five pairs of handsome mallard ducks in a slow stretch of the small creek that was hemmed in on both sides by matted down reed canary-grass, plus river birch and young sycamore trees. A northern mockingbird was eating a crab apple fruit in the tree while a group of lively American goldfinches were eating seeds from the seed cups of dead, but still standing, evening primrose plants. And a red-tailed hawk was perched on a sycamore while watching for mice. I had gone by that overgrown meadow, and others like it along Mill Creek south of New Holland many times, but this time I was particularly struck by how lovely, interesting and important these shrubby meadows are to wildlife.
The upper reaches of Mill Creek are more like a stream. They are home to killifish, black-nosed dace, minnows, bluegill sunfish and brown and brook trout. Those fish attract a few wintering great blue herons and belted kingfishers, a couple of mink. Wintering Wilson's snipe, which is a kind of inland sandpiper, poke their long beaks into mud under shallow water to pull out and ingest invertebrates. And muskrats live in tunnels in the stream banks and eat grass and other vegetation they find along waterways.
Three former short-grass pastures, that are not used to graze cattle or horses anymore and easily seen from public roads, straddle Mill Creek. They have been planted in recent years to a variety of bottomland trees and shrubs. And there is a variety of volunteer plants in those former meadows as well, including an assortment of weeds, grasses, vines, multiflora rose bushes, red juniper trees, ash-leafed maple and silver maple trees, crack willow trees and black walnut trees.
In the course of a few days I visited each of those pastures, those farmland oases, of at least a few acres each, to again observe the plants and wildlife thriving in them. Those thickets of vegetation provide shelter and food for many types of wildlife.
All these planted meadows are carpeted with volunteer reed canary-grass, a kind of grass that does best in damp soil. In winter that grass gets matted down by wind, rain and snow. Meadow voles (mice) live in nests and tunnels under that matted grass. And some of those voles get caught and eaten by red-tailed hawks, American kestrels, screech owls, great blue herons, mink and other predators through the year.
A couple of those three overgrown pastures had been planted to cranberry viburnums that produce red berries. But crab apple and red juniper trees, and red-twigged dogwood and multiflora rose shrubs spring up on their own. All these plants grow berry-like fruits that, along with the viburnum berries, feed wintering birds and rodents through winter. Some of those birds are flocks of American robins, eastern bluebirds, cedar waxwings and starlings and individual mockingbirds and northern cardinals. Some of those berry-eating birds fall prey to Cooper's hawks.
Groups of wintering seed-eating birds live in some of the thickets in those planted and abandoned pastures and consume the seeds of goldenrods, teasels and other weeds and grasses. Some of those bird species are song sparrows, goldfinches, house finches, white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos.
A few species of permanent resident, woodland birds, including Carolina wrens, Carolina chickadees, tufted titmice, white-breasted nuthatches, downy woodpeckers and red-bellied woodpeckers live in these woody meadows. Though originally residents of deciduous woods, these adaptable birds move into new patches of half-grown trees and woody shrubs where they can get their invertebrate and seed foods.
There are many tree and shrub-planted, abandoned and overgrown meadows like these in southeastern Pennsylvania. And all of them are valuable to wildlife of several species and lovely and interesting to us the year around.
The upper reaches of Mill Creek are more like a stream. They are home to killifish, black-nosed dace, minnows, bluegill sunfish and brown and brook trout. Those fish attract a few wintering great blue herons and belted kingfishers, a couple of mink. Wintering Wilson's snipe, which is a kind of inland sandpiper, poke their long beaks into mud under shallow water to pull out and ingest invertebrates. And muskrats live in tunnels in the stream banks and eat grass and other vegetation they find along waterways.
Three former short-grass pastures, that are not used to graze cattle or horses anymore and easily seen from public roads, straddle Mill Creek. They have been planted in recent years to a variety of bottomland trees and shrubs. And there is a variety of volunteer plants in those former meadows as well, including an assortment of weeds, grasses, vines, multiflora rose bushes, red juniper trees, ash-leafed maple and silver maple trees, crack willow trees and black walnut trees.
In the course of a few days I visited each of those pastures, those farmland oases, of at least a few acres each, to again observe the plants and wildlife thriving in them. Those thickets of vegetation provide shelter and food for many types of wildlife.
All these planted meadows are carpeted with volunteer reed canary-grass, a kind of grass that does best in damp soil. In winter that grass gets matted down by wind, rain and snow. Meadow voles (mice) live in nests and tunnels under that matted grass. And some of those voles get caught and eaten by red-tailed hawks, American kestrels, screech owls, great blue herons, mink and other predators through the year.
A couple of those three overgrown pastures had been planted to cranberry viburnums that produce red berries. But crab apple and red juniper trees, and red-twigged dogwood and multiflora rose shrubs spring up on their own. All these plants grow berry-like fruits that, along with the viburnum berries, feed wintering birds and rodents through winter. Some of those birds are flocks of American robins, eastern bluebirds, cedar waxwings and starlings and individual mockingbirds and northern cardinals. Some of those berry-eating birds fall prey to Cooper's hawks.
Groups of wintering seed-eating birds live in some of the thickets in those planted and abandoned pastures and consume the seeds of goldenrods, teasels and other weeds and grasses. Some of those bird species are song sparrows, goldfinches, house finches, white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos.
A few species of permanent resident, woodland birds, including Carolina wrens, Carolina chickadees, tufted titmice, white-breasted nuthatches, downy woodpeckers and red-bellied woodpeckers live in these woody meadows. Though originally residents of deciduous woods, these adaptable birds move into new patches of half-grown trees and woody shrubs where they can get their invertebrate and seed foods.
There are many tree and shrub-planted, abandoned and overgrown meadows like these in southeastern Pennsylvania. And all of them are valuable to wildlife of several species and lovely and interesting to us the year around.
Friday, January 8, 2016
Ringed Plovers in North America
I remember when I was a young boy walking across a plowed field in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland in March. Suddenly, a bird I didn't see flew up almost at my feet and low across the field yelling "kill-dee, kill-dee". I was startled at the time and later learned that the bird was a killdeer, a kind of inland plover.
As a middle-aged adult, I was visiting beaches on Assateague Island, Virginia. I read that Wilson's plovers raise young on coastal beaches as far north as Virginia. Since I never saw one to that point, I set out on a beach on Assateague to find one. As I walked along a beach, I soon spotted a pair of them, right where they were supposed to be. Each bird of the pair had one black ring on its chest and a thick, black beak, typical characteristics of their species.
There are four kinds of ringed plovers in North America that I have seen. They are all look-alikes, demonstrating their common ancestry from one ancestral species. All species are more or less dark on top, for camouflage against soil or sand, white below with one or two black rings on their chests, depending on the kind. All of them eat invertebrates from the soil or sand, but in different niches which caused the various species in the first place. And all of them, being shorebirds, lay four eggs in a clutch on the ground.
Killdeer plovers are the most common and biggest of ringed plovers in North America. And they are the only type of ringed plover that lives and nests inland throughout most of North America. Their upper parts are brown to blend into bare soil to be invisible, which they are until they move. And this is the only species, when adult, that has two black rings on its chest. Young killdeer have one ring like their cousins.
Killdeer hatch young on gravel bars along inland waterways, which are their original nesting niches. But, being adaptable, they also hatch young in bare ground fields, and on gravel driveways, parking lots, railroad beds and flat, gravel roofs, all of which are human-made habitats. The young have to jump off the roofs to get food in nearby lawns and fields.
Semi-palmated plovers breed on the Arctic tundra. They migrate twice each year through much of the Lower 48 and Canada to get to their nesting territories in summer and to the coastal beaches and mud flats of the southern United States and Mexico for the winter.
Semi-palms have brown feathering on top and short bills. I sometimes see little groups of them along puddles in flooded fields where they search for invertebrates and put on more fat before continuing their migrations.
Piping plovers look much like semi-palms, except they are lighter in color, which camouflages them on sandy beaches where they nest. There are two populations of piping plovers, one that rears offspring on beaches of the North Atlantic and another that hatches youngsters along rivers in the Central United States and Canada. The Atlantic beach piping plovers have been reduced in numbers because of a reduction in nesting habitat. Many beaches along the North Atlantic are used for human recreation, which doesn't allow successfully nesting piping plovers and least terns. Piping plovers winter along sea coasts of the South Atlantic and the Gulf Coast.
Limited numbers of Wilson's plovers raise young on beaches along the Gulf Coast and the Atlantic Ocean north to Virginia. And this species winters on beaches from the Caribbean to northern South America.
Ringed plovers have traits that show their common ancestry. They are shorebirds, and like most species in their family, they are camouflaged and hard to spot. But they are interesting to experience when found.
As a middle-aged adult, I was visiting beaches on Assateague Island, Virginia. I read that Wilson's plovers raise young on coastal beaches as far north as Virginia. Since I never saw one to that point, I set out on a beach on Assateague to find one. As I walked along a beach, I soon spotted a pair of them, right where they were supposed to be. Each bird of the pair had one black ring on its chest and a thick, black beak, typical characteristics of their species.
There are four kinds of ringed plovers in North America that I have seen. They are all look-alikes, demonstrating their common ancestry from one ancestral species. All species are more or less dark on top, for camouflage against soil or sand, white below with one or two black rings on their chests, depending on the kind. All of them eat invertebrates from the soil or sand, but in different niches which caused the various species in the first place. And all of them, being shorebirds, lay four eggs in a clutch on the ground.
Killdeer plovers are the most common and biggest of ringed plovers in North America. And they are the only type of ringed plover that lives and nests inland throughout most of North America. Their upper parts are brown to blend into bare soil to be invisible, which they are until they move. And this is the only species, when adult, that has two black rings on its chest. Young killdeer have one ring like their cousins.
Killdeer hatch young on gravel bars along inland waterways, which are their original nesting niches. But, being adaptable, they also hatch young in bare ground fields, and on gravel driveways, parking lots, railroad beds and flat, gravel roofs, all of which are human-made habitats. The young have to jump off the roofs to get food in nearby lawns and fields.
Semi-palmated plovers breed on the Arctic tundra. They migrate twice each year through much of the Lower 48 and Canada to get to their nesting territories in summer and to the coastal beaches and mud flats of the southern United States and Mexico for the winter.
Semi-palms have brown feathering on top and short bills. I sometimes see little groups of them along puddles in flooded fields where they search for invertebrates and put on more fat before continuing their migrations.
Piping plovers look much like semi-palms, except they are lighter in color, which camouflages them on sandy beaches where they nest. There are two populations of piping plovers, one that rears offspring on beaches of the North Atlantic and another that hatches youngsters along rivers in the Central United States and Canada. The Atlantic beach piping plovers have been reduced in numbers because of a reduction in nesting habitat. Many beaches along the North Atlantic are used for human recreation, which doesn't allow successfully nesting piping plovers and least terns. Piping plovers winter along sea coasts of the South Atlantic and the Gulf Coast.
Limited numbers of Wilson's plovers raise young on beaches along the Gulf Coast and the Atlantic Ocean north to Virginia. And this species winters on beaches from the Caribbean to northern South America.
Ringed plovers have traits that show their common ancestry. They are shorebirds, and like most species in their family, they are camouflaged and hard to spot. But they are interesting to experience when found.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Birds Seen From Parks
On January 5 and 6, 2016, I briefly visited two public parks to look for obvious flocks of birds, the first day in Northeast Maryland, and the second just outside Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I was looking for wintering species anyone could experience, and gain inspiration from, on the spur of the moment, without trying and without binoculars. I had been to those parks before in winter, but wanted to verify the birds were still around them, as they had been in the past.
When I drove into the community park in Northeast, I saw the three major species of common birds that winter there right away. They were masses of ring-billed gulls, hundreds of Canada geese and scores of fish crows.
Hundreds and more hundreds of ring-billed gulls were standing, resting in a huddled, light-gray mass on a short-grass lawn by the broad Northeast River, which is a northern extension of the Chesapeake Bay. Hundreds more of these common gulls were concentrated on a mud flat near that lawn, and scattered in the air and on the water just off the lawn and flats. Once during the short time I was in that park, most of the gulls lifted off the lawn, water and flats, which they do when spooked by a bald eagle. The gulls appeared to be a blizzard in the sky for several minutes before coming down, a few at a time, to rest again on the lawn, flats and water. Though I looked, I didn't see any eagles. But those gulls in the sky were an inspiring spectacle.
The Canada geese were grazing on the short grass of the same lawn the gulls were standing on to rest between their feeding forays. The geese walked along slowly in a wide front while plucking off blades of grass as would sheep. I must say though I've seen and heard the stately Canada geese hundreds of times, I never get tired of experiencing them. Those geese, too, took off in flight with a roar of wings and much bugling when the gulls did, but landed on the Northeast River only a hundred yards away.
The fish crows stayed in the trees mostly, where their nasal cawing was incessant. Some crows, however, were on the ground looking for tidbits of food. Gulls and crows both are great scavengers, possibly competing with each other for food of almost any kind. Though they were "just" crows, their numbers and unending calling along a shoreline habitat that they usually inhabit were interesting to experience. They are a major part of coastal environments the year around.
Late in the afternoon of the sixth, I drove into Long's Park, a city park of many large trees and gray squirrels. I was looking for the masses of American crows that often gather in the park's treetops before going to their nightly roost on the roof of nearby Park City, a large shopping center just outside Lancaster City. Hundreds of Canada geese floated peacefully on the two acre lake in the park, but I didn't see any crows. But as I exited Long's Park, I saw masses of crows in a line of trees on the eastern border of Park City.
Driving into the huge parking lot of Park City, I could see thousands of crows ahead in the trees. For some reason unknown to me, those crows suddenly rose up from the trees with a great shout and masses of them floated and wheeled in the sky, cawing loudly all the while. But soon many of them landed again in trees on the eastern border of Park City and in tree tops in nearby Long's Park.
As I left Park City to go home, I could see thousands of American crows perched on trees and hundreds more still circling high in the sunset. And, suddenly, there were the Canada geese low against the sunset, flock after flock, as they left the pond in Long's park and were flying out to feed on corn kernels in harvested corn fields. With the crows floating high in the sky and the geese powering and honking low before the sunset, the area around Long's Park, Park City and Route 30 that runs between them were suddenly wilder places in spite of the development and heavy traffic.
Nature can not be completely ruined or run out.
These are only a couple of places where people can experience and be inspired by nature. There are many more such places on Earth, perhaps some near your home.
When I drove into the community park in Northeast, I saw the three major species of common birds that winter there right away. They were masses of ring-billed gulls, hundreds of Canada geese and scores of fish crows.
Hundreds and more hundreds of ring-billed gulls were standing, resting in a huddled, light-gray mass on a short-grass lawn by the broad Northeast River, which is a northern extension of the Chesapeake Bay. Hundreds more of these common gulls were concentrated on a mud flat near that lawn, and scattered in the air and on the water just off the lawn and flats. Once during the short time I was in that park, most of the gulls lifted off the lawn, water and flats, which they do when spooked by a bald eagle. The gulls appeared to be a blizzard in the sky for several minutes before coming down, a few at a time, to rest again on the lawn, flats and water. Though I looked, I didn't see any eagles. But those gulls in the sky were an inspiring spectacle.
The Canada geese were grazing on the short grass of the same lawn the gulls were standing on to rest between their feeding forays. The geese walked along slowly in a wide front while plucking off blades of grass as would sheep. I must say though I've seen and heard the stately Canada geese hundreds of times, I never get tired of experiencing them. Those geese, too, took off in flight with a roar of wings and much bugling when the gulls did, but landed on the Northeast River only a hundred yards away.
The fish crows stayed in the trees mostly, where their nasal cawing was incessant. Some crows, however, were on the ground looking for tidbits of food. Gulls and crows both are great scavengers, possibly competing with each other for food of almost any kind. Though they were "just" crows, their numbers and unending calling along a shoreline habitat that they usually inhabit were interesting to experience. They are a major part of coastal environments the year around.
Late in the afternoon of the sixth, I drove into Long's Park, a city park of many large trees and gray squirrels. I was looking for the masses of American crows that often gather in the park's treetops before going to their nightly roost on the roof of nearby Park City, a large shopping center just outside Lancaster City. Hundreds of Canada geese floated peacefully on the two acre lake in the park, but I didn't see any crows. But as I exited Long's Park, I saw masses of crows in a line of trees on the eastern border of Park City.
Driving into the huge parking lot of Park City, I could see thousands of crows ahead in the trees. For some reason unknown to me, those crows suddenly rose up from the trees with a great shout and masses of them floated and wheeled in the sky, cawing loudly all the while. But soon many of them landed again in trees on the eastern border of Park City and in tree tops in nearby Long's Park.
As I left Park City to go home, I could see thousands of American crows perched on trees and hundreds more still circling high in the sunset. And, suddenly, there were the Canada geese low against the sunset, flock after flock, as they left the pond in Long's park and were flying out to feed on corn kernels in harvested corn fields. With the crows floating high in the sky and the geese powering and honking low before the sunset, the area around Long's Park, Park City and Route 30 that runs between them were suddenly wilder places in spite of the development and heavy traffic.
Nature can not be completely ruined or run out.
These are only a couple of places where people can experience and be inspired by nature. There are many more such places on Earth, perhaps some near your home.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Trees on Elk Neck Peninsula
Elk Neck Peninsula in northeast Maryland is formed by the upper Chesapeake Bay on the west and Elk River to the east. It is mostly covered with deciduous forests, but with some housing developments and a little farmland. Route 272 runs from the town of Northeast south through Elk Neck State Forest on the northern half of the peninsula and Elk Neck State Park in the southern part.
I took a road trip on Route 272 from just south of Northeast to almost the dead-end, southern tip of the peninsula.in the afternoon of January 5, 2016. I wanted to see what kinds of trees dominated the woods of this Maryland peninsula.
Going south on Route 272, the first dominant trees I saw were sweet gums and scrub pines. The gums have bristly, brown balls on their twigs that grew and dispense tiny seeds that finches, sparrows and other types of small birds eat in winter. The pines have two twisted needles in a bundle and cones that persist on the twigs for years. The pines also add green to winter deciduous woods.
Driving deeper into the forest of large, deciduous trees, I noticed the shrub layer of the woods was dominated by mountain laurel that has green leaves through winter. Those laurel shrubs, with rustically twisted limbs, bloom beautifully from late May into early June. Their pink buds resemble icing bud decor on a cake. But when the laurel buds open they are mostly white to pale pink.
The many American holly trees in these woods also added scattered green almost everywhere in them in winter. And these hollies were the biggest reason I wanted to visit these woods in winter when I could see them without deciduous leaves interfering. I had been in these woods several years ago, but needed a refresher course.
The hollies were in all sizes and ages. Some of them had lovely, pyramidal shapes and all had thick, deep-green leaves with sharp bristles on their edges. Some of them, mature females, also sported striking, red berries that added to the beauties of the mostly gray woods. And at some point during winter or early spring, flocks of American robins, cedar waxwings and other species of berry-eating birds will consume some of the holly berries.
But the many large, deciduous trees of several kinds dominated this peninsular forest in Maryland. Tulip trees were there in abundance, almost everywhere. Chestnut oaks, red oaks and American beeches dominated the low slopes of the terrain. Dead leaves that still clung to their twigs on red oaks and beeches were decorative in the winter woods by offering warm brown and beige colors, respectively, to the forests.
Sycamore and white oak trees were most common in low-lying woods where the ground is moister. The sycamores were readily distinguishable by their mottled bark.
Seeing the Chesapeake Bay where Route 272 meanders near the steep slopes of that estuaries' shores is an added bonus, particularly in winter when deciduous leaves are down. If one watches the bay long enough, gulls, tundra swans, bald eagles and other, wintering estuary birds can be spotted from the road and the foot path to Turkey Point, the tip of this wooded peninsula.
The day I was on the peninsula, and without trying, I saw four white-tailed deer, the fresh works of pileated woodpeckers on dead wood and two large flocks of white-throated sparrows, all right along the road. Of course, these woods have many more kinds of woodland critters through the seasons.
My trip on Route 272 in Elk Neck Peninsula was enjoyable to me. And I was able to determine some of the more common trees in that unique forest. But the American hollies were the neatest single species on the whole excursion. Having that much green and red berries in a winter woodland is uplifting to the spirit.
I took a road trip on Route 272 from just south of Northeast to almost the dead-end, southern tip of the peninsula.in the afternoon of January 5, 2016. I wanted to see what kinds of trees dominated the woods of this Maryland peninsula.
Going south on Route 272, the first dominant trees I saw were sweet gums and scrub pines. The gums have bristly, brown balls on their twigs that grew and dispense tiny seeds that finches, sparrows and other types of small birds eat in winter. The pines have two twisted needles in a bundle and cones that persist on the twigs for years. The pines also add green to winter deciduous woods.
Driving deeper into the forest of large, deciduous trees, I noticed the shrub layer of the woods was dominated by mountain laurel that has green leaves through winter. Those laurel shrubs, with rustically twisted limbs, bloom beautifully from late May into early June. Their pink buds resemble icing bud decor on a cake. But when the laurel buds open they are mostly white to pale pink.
The many American holly trees in these woods also added scattered green almost everywhere in them in winter. And these hollies were the biggest reason I wanted to visit these woods in winter when I could see them without deciduous leaves interfering. I had been in these woods several years ago, but needed a refresher course.
The hollies were in all sizes and ages. Some of them had lovely, pyramidal shapes and all had thick, deep-green leaves with sharp bristles on their edges. Some of them, mature females, also sported striking, red berries that added to the beauties of the mostly gray woods. And at some point during winter or early spring, flocks of American robins, cedar waxwings and other species of berry-eating birds will consume some of the holly berries.
But the many large, deciduous trees of several kinds dominated this peninsular forest in Maryland. Tulip trees were there in abundance, almost everywhere. Chestnut oaks, red oaks and American beeches dominated the low slopes of the terrain. Dead leaves that still clung to their twigs on red oaks and beeches were decorative in the winter woods by offering warm brown and beige colors, respectively, to the forests.
Sycamore and white oak trees were most common in low-lying woods where the ground is moister. The sycamores were readily distinguishable by their mottled bark.
Seeing the Chesapeake Bay where Route 272 meanders near the steep slopes of that estuaries' shores is an added bonus, particularly in winter when deciduous leaves are down. If one watches the bay long enough, gulls, tundra swans, bald eagles and other, wintering estuary birds can be spotted from the road and the foot path to Turkey Point, the tip of this wooded peninsula.
The day I was on the peninsula, and without trying, I saw four white-tailed deer, the fresh works of pileated woodpeckers on dead wood and two large flocks of white-throated sparrows, all right along the road. Of course, these woods have many more kinds of woodland critters through the seasons.
My trip on Route 272 in Elk Neck Peninsula was enjoyable to me. And I was able to determine some of the more common trees in that unique forest. But the American hollies were the neatest single species on the whole excursion. Having that much green and red berries in a winter woodland is uplifting to the spirit.
Monday, January 4, 2016
Sheltering From Cold Winds
Over the years, I have seen many kinds of birds sheltering from cold, winter wind here in southeastern Pennsylvania. Flocks of house sparrows and house finches perch on the southern, sunny sides of bushes and thickets where they can warm in the sunlight, out of the frigid northwest winds. Groups of dark-eyed juncos avoid cold wind by roosting in young spruce and fir trees. And one can see red-tailed hawks perched on the lee side of trees out of the wind as they watch for rodents to catch and eat. But for two hours today at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area here in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, I saw a few kinds of waterfowl in the shelter of trees and shrubbery on the north side of a pond and lake. Both these human-made impoundments are easily seen from a road that runs between them.
The two-acre pond had a bit more diverse community of scores of Canada geese and five species of ducks, including a few mallards, several black ducks, seven gadwalls, eight hooded mergansers and several ring-necked ducks. All these waterfowl species are here all winter, every winter. But today most of these birds were close beside sheltering crack willows and silver maples on the north shore of the pond, which blocked the frigid north wind, protecting those water birds. These birds are also camouflaged under the branches hanging over the water. And if they were attacked by a hawk or eagle, they could dive under the limbs or under the water to avoid the attack.
Because that shore of the pond was near the road and my using 16 power binoculars, I could see the ducks and geese close-up and intimately. I could easily see every detail of their beautiful feathering and feeding techniques.
Though the geese had been eating grass before floating on the pond to rest, all the duck species were feeding in the water near the sheltering thickets of young trees. The mallards, blacks and gadwalls were all "tipping up" to feed on under water vegetation in the shallow water along the pond's edge. Mallards and blacks, also consume waste corn kernels in harvested corn fields.
The mergansers repeatedly dove under water to catch small fish. And they were successful much of the time as I could see them choking down small fish whole and headfirst.
And the ring-necked ducks also dove under water to eat aquatic vegetation and invertebrates. Interestingly, these five waterfowl were feeding in the pond with a minimum of competition for food.
A couple of times some of the ducks and geese ventured into mid-pond where there was no protection from the wind. There they were hunched against the cold wind and bobbed in the wind-blown, rough water. The mergansers and ring-necks continued to dive for food. But soon most of those waterfowl swam back to the north edge of the pond where they were again sheltered by the thickets of trees and shrubs.
A shallow cove of the large lake, directly across the road from the pond, was a shelter for scores of resting Canada geese, a couple dozen black ducks, and a few each of mallards and common mergansers. A thin strip of deciduous woods that is about two hundred yards long and dominated by tall European black alders blocks the cold north winds from that cove in the lake. Most of the geese in the cove were asleep with their beaks under a wing. But when they get hungry, they fly out to grass fields and harvested corn fields to get food.
It was interesting to me to see these water birds seeking shelter from cold, winter winds. They have a lot of down to trap their body heat and outer feathers impervious to water, but they still were seeking shelter, at least at times. And it was exciting to me to see these birds so close up because they stuck tight to their shelter, at least for the most part.
The two-acre pond had a bit more diverse community of scores of Canada geese and five species of ducks, including a few mallards, several black ducks, seven gadwalls, eight hooded mergansers and several ring-necked ducks. All these waterfowl species are here all winter, every winter. But today most of these birds were close beside sheltering crack willows and silver maples on the north shore of the pond, which blocked the frigid north wind, protecting those water birds. These birds are also camouflaged under the branches hanging over the water. And if they were attacked by a hawk or eagle, they could dive under the limbs or under the water to avoid the attack.
Because that shore of the pond was near the road and my using 16 power binoculars, I could see the ducks and geese close-up and intimately. I could easily see every detail of their beautiful feathering and feeding techniques.
Though the geese had been eating grass before floating on the pond to rest, all the duck species were feeding in the water near the sheltering thickets of young trees. The mallards, blacks and gadwalls were all "tipping up" to feed on under water vegetation in the shallow water along the pond's edge. Mallards and blacks, also consume waste corn kernels in harvested corn fields.
The mergansers repeatedly dove under water to catch small fish. And they were successful much of the time as I could see them choking down small fish whole and headfirst.
And the ring-necked ducks also dove under water to eat aquatic vegetation and invertebrates. Interestingly, these five waterfowl were feeding in the pond with a minimum of competition for food.
A couple of times some of the ducks and geese ventured into mid-pond where there was no protection from the wind. There they were hunched against the cold wind and bobbed in the wind-blown, rough water. The mergansers and ring-necks continued to dive for food. But soon most of those waterfowl swam back to the north edge of the pond where they were again sheltered by the thickets of trees and shrubs.
A shallow cove of the large lake, directly across the road from the pond, was a shelter for scores of resting Canada geese, a couple dozen black ducks, and a few each of mallards and common mergansers. A thin strip of deciduous woods that is about two hundred yards long and dominated by tall European black alders blocks the cold north winds from that cove in the lake. Most of the geese in the cove were asleep with their beaks under a wing. But when they get hungry, they fly out to grass fields and harvested corn fields to get food.
It was interesting to me to see these water birds seeking shelter from cold, winter winds. They have a lot of down to trap their body heat and outer feathers impervious to water, but they still were seeking shelter, at least at times. And it was exciting to me to see these birds so close up because they stuck tight to their shelter, at least for the most part.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Swans in the Mid-Atlantic States
Appearing first as white scribbles in the sky in winter and early in spring in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, they come closer swiftly in large V's and long lines, bugling musically all the while. Soon their flocks, one after another, circle a harvested cornfield, a green rye field or a human-made impoundment before landing on it to feed or rest respectively. Then down they come, group after group, like many white parachutes, their wings fully stretched and black legs and webbed feet extended to brace their descent on land or water. They are tundra swans; large, white waterfowl that nest on the Arctic tundra. Half their population winters on the Pacific Coast while the other half winters on the greater Chesapeake Bay Region of the Atlantic Coast.
Three kinds of swans are spotted in southeastern Pennsylvania in a year's time, the migrant tundra swans, resident mute swans and the occasional trumpeter swans. All these species are big, powerful flyers, have white feathering, and are elegant in the sky and on land and water. They all have boat-like bodies, and long necks that help make them appear stately. All of them are beautiful, and inspiring to see, exciting birders and non-birders alike.
Only subtle differences identify the adults of these swans. Tundra swans have a yellow mark on each side of the black beak just in front of the eye. Trumpeters have a red line on both sides of the lower mandible of their beaks, while mutes have orange beaks with a black knob on top of each one. Young, but fully feathered, swans of all species have light-brown feathering and dull-pink bills. Baby swans of all types have light-gray fuzz until their feathers develop.
There are about 100,000 tundra swans in North America and about half of them winter along the Atlantic Coast from North Carolina's Outer Banks to southeastern Pennsylvania, but mostly around the Chesapeake, their traditional winter home. Sometime in winter, at least a few thousand of them pour onto the large lake at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area, which straddles the Lancaster/Lebanon County line, to rest. They feed in nearby fields in southern Lebanon County, exciting people with their airborne flocks going to and from the fields.
Sometime in March, depending on the weather, tundra swans start their migration north to the tundra to raise young. They stop at the Great Lakes Region for a week or more, then hop across Canada to the tundra along the Arctic Ocean, entering it about the middle of May.
Mute swans are originally from Eurasia, but were introduced to North America as exotic birds on estate and farm ponds. Several mutes, particularly young birds that hatched in North America, escaped captivity and established wild, permanent resident, breeding populations here, especially on the Hudson River, Delmarva and Chesapeake Bay Areas. Some farmers today raise young mute swans from mated pairs on farm ponds. Some of those young swans are sold as ornamental birds on ponds and lakes.
Mute swans can be aggressive toward people and geese and ducks, sometimes ruining the nesting success of those groups of birds. For those reasons, many people are not in favor of having mute swans in North America. But they are majestic birds, and the only swan species the Middle Atlantic States in summer.
Trumpeter swans are the largest waterfowl in North America. They were pushed almost to extinction on this continent because of habitat loss and over-shooting, but, with protection, have made a comeback. Once limited to scattered populations in the western mountain area of this continent, they now can be spotted occasionally almost anywhere in North America, including in the Middle Atlantic States, though they don't breed here yet. But any spotting of those magnificent birds causes excitement.
Watch for these majestic, stately birds at anytime of year. They are beautiful and inspiring, and able to cause excitement among birders and non-birders alike.
Three kinds of swans are spotted in southeastern Pennsylvania in a year's time, the migrant tundra swans, resident mute swans and the occasional trumpeter swans. All these species are big, powerful flyers, have white feathering, and are elegant in the sky and on land and water. They all have boat-like bodies, and long necks that help make them appear stately. All of them are beautiful, and inspiring to see, exciting birders and non-birders alike.
Only subtle differences identify the adults of these swans. Tundra swans have a yellow mark on each side of the black beak just in front of the eye. Trumpeters have a red line on both sides of the lower mandible of their beaks, while mutes have orange beaks with a black knob on top of each one. Young, but fully feathered, swans of all species have light-brown feathering and dull-pink bills. Baby swans of all types have light-gray fuzz until their feathers develop.
There are about 100,000 tundra swans in North America and about half of them winter along the Atlantic Coast from North Carolina's Outer Banks to southeastern Pennsylvania, but mostly around the Chesapeake, their traditional winter home. Sometime in winter, at least a few thousand of them pour onto the large lake at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area, which straddles the Lancaster/Lebanon County line, to rest. They feed in nearby fields in southern Lebanon County, exciting people with their airborne flocks going to and from the fields.
Sometime in March, depending on the weather, tundra swans start their migration north to the tundra to raise young. They stop at the Great Lakes Region for a week or more, then hop across Canada to the tundra along the Arctic Ocean, entering it about the middle of May.
Mute swans are originally from Eurasia, but were introduced to North America as exotic birds on estate and farm ponds. Several mutes, particularly young birds that hatched in North America, escaped captivity and established wild, permanent resident, breeding populations here, especially on the Hudson River, Delmarva and Chesapeake Bay Areas. Some farmers today raise young mute swans from mated pairs on farm ponds. Some of those young swans are sold as ornamental birds on ponds and lakes.
Mute swans can be aggressive toward people and geese and ducks, sometimes ruining the nesting success of those groups of birds. For those reasons, many people are not in favor of having mute swans in North America. But they are majestic birds, and the only swan species the Middle Atlantic States in summer.
Trumpeter swans are the largest waterfowl in North America. They were pushed almost to extinction on this continent because of habitat loss and over-shooting, but, with protection, have made a comeback. Once limited to scattered populations in the western mountain area of this continent, they now can be spotted occasionally almost anywhere in North America, including in the Middle Atlantic States, though they don't breed here yet. But any spotting of those magnificent birds causes excitement.
Watch for these majestic, stately birds at anytime of year. They are beautiful and inspiring, and able to cause excitement among birders and non-birders alike.
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