One day late in June of this year, I drove into the large parking lot of a church in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania on business and noticed about six killdeer plovers running and flying across the blacktop ahead of me. The church campus was composed mostly of that parking lot and even larger short-grass lawn, studded here and there with planted, young trees, good killdeer habitat, surrounded by fields and hedgerows. Still, I thought, that's a lot of killdeer in one place in this area at this time of year. Then I saw the probable answer; several raised, decorative islands of rocks in that parking lot, each island a little bigger than the size of a pickup truck.
Killdeer are adapted to hatching young on rocky ground where they and their eggs are camouflaged. And they adapted to catching invertebrates on soil with little or short vegetation. That human-made church campus is a good habitat for killdeer.
As I continued driving on that parking lot, I noticed other human-made habitats recently carved from farmland. There are two, quarter-acre retention basins filled with water and rimmed by tall cattails. About six pairs of red-winged blackbirds are nesting among the cattails of each basin. Each female red-wing attaches her grass nursery to a few cattails stems a couple feet above the water level. Red-wing parents, however, get much invertebrate food from the surrounding short-grass lawn and shuttle it to their young in hidden cradles among the cattails.
The rim of one of the cattail basins is lined with a variety of flowering plants, including Canada thistles, common milkweeds, chicory and daisy fleabane. The day I was there I saw an attractive pair of American goldfinches feeding on the seeds of the thistle plants that were already done blooming and developed seeds. And I saw worker bumble bees and one each of red admiral and question mark butterflies sipping nectar from thistle and milkweed blossoms. Soon, I suspect, female monarch butterflies will visit those milkweeds to lay eggs on their leaves, which is the only food of monarch caterpillars.
The other cattail basin had few flowers on its edge, but was loaded with green frogs, though it was recently built. Green frogs often travel overland on dewy nights or during rain and some discover new ponds to live in. I knew the frogs were there because many of the males were gulping and belching to entice females to them for spawning in the shallow water.
A stream, bordered by a thin strip of tall grass and other plants and dotted with young trees, flows slowly through one end of this campus. A dam on the stream slows its current for over a hundred yards, making it more like a pond. While there, I saw a family of mallard ducks on the water and a few families of Canada geese grazing on short grass on the lawn near the waterway. A great blue heron and a green-backed heron stalked frogs and fish in the shallows of the waterway. I thought perhaps the green heron and its mate had young in a stick nest in a tree in a nearby hedgerow. A pair of spotted sandpipers bobbed and danced along the stream's edge while searching for invertebrates. Those peculiar motions are a form of camouflage, resembling bits of debris bouncing in the wavelets on the shores of inland waterways and impoundments. Those spotties probably have a brood of young somewhere nearby. And I saw a few carp feeding in the slowest part of the stream, stirring mud from the bottom as they moved along.
Green darner dragonflies, white-tailed dragonflies and bluet damselflies sped and fluttered over the water and lawns after mates and flying insect prey. These insects are not harmful to people. In fact, they are entertaining and eat a lot of pesky insects, including mosquitoes.
I saw a couple pairs of rough-winged swallows, a pair of belted kingfishers and muskrat signs along the stream. These creatures dig burrows into the soft soil of stream banks where they live and raise young. The swallows catch flying insects, the kingfishers eat small fish and the muskrats consume a variety of vegetation along waterways, therefore there is no competition among these species for food.
A couple pairs of permanent resident song sparrows nest in shrubbery along the stream while a pair of eastern kingbirds hatched young in a twig and grass cradle in a tree by that same waterway flowing slowly through the lawn. The sparrows are like sandpipers in that they patrol the shallow water and mud flats along streams and ponds for a variety of invertebrates to eat. The kingbirds, however, being flycatchers, catch insects from the air.
A few each of barn swallows and tree swallows flew swiftly over lawns and the stream in hot pursuit of flying insects, while a giant snapping turtle lumbered across a lawn on her way to a place to dig a hole and lay eggs. I saw the snout of another snapper in the stream at the same time. The barn swallows nest in a nearby barn while the tree swallows rear offspring in the few bluebird boxes erected on the church campus.
There are many other campuses like this one, but of all different acreages. And if certain parts of each one was left alone, either on purpose or by human indifference, to develop plants naturally, they would be good places for wildlife to live and reproduce, increasing their populations. Every plant and wild animal on this campus is there because its needs are met there. I was fortunate and glad to have noticed the plants and animals I did on this campus, though the bulk of it is mowed and trimmed.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Monday, June 27, 2016
Who's Eating What
Sitting on our deck and looking over our back yard in New Holland, Pennsylvania one early-evening toward the end of June of this year, I noticed a few blue jays rummaging in our two large pussy willow bushes. Looking closer, I saw they were eating Japanese beetles that were chewing on pussy willow leaves. These local jays were all the more noticeable because I hadn't seen much of them since the end of April. Because of their raising a brood of young, they were quiet recluses. I even saw one jay, a youngster of the year, begging with fluttering wings and being fed a beetle by a parent. Immediately, I looked for other species of adaptable and common creatures feeding on, in and over our typically manicured lawn of short grass, bushes, vines and trees that evening. Though trimmed weekly, our lawn has food sources, the same as any other habitat. And several kinds of critters take advantage of those food sources.
A young cottontail rabbit was nibbling grass and white clover leaves while an adult and a young American robin ran and stopped, ran and stopped over the short grass in search of earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates. And I noticed a few each of worker honey bees and bumble bees visiting white clover flowers in our lawn. White clover is a major, reliable source of nectar to bees and other types of insects through summer. Regular mowing makes the clover plants produce more and still more blossoms to replace the ones cut off during each and every mowing.
I knew from past experiences that there are many kinds of invertebrates living in the soil and under mulch in our yard. Earthworms get nutrition by eating the soil itself. Slugs, a small kind of land snail, millipedes and wood lice eat decaying plant material, such as dead grass from mowing that filters down through living grass. Centipedes and firefly larvae feed on some of those little invertebrates.
That evening, a few kinds of birds repeatedly visited our sunflower feeder hanging in a sheltering bush, as they do off and on all day. A pair of Carolina chickadees, a tufted titmouse and a few each of house finches and house sparrows took turns getting sunflower seeds from the feeder, creating entertainment to us, as they always do. The house sparrows seem to be bullies in that some of them, sometimes, chase other small birds from the feeder. Meanwhile, a young northern cardinal with its typical dark beak, and its father, a gray squirrel and a mourning dove ate bits of sunflower seeds off the ground under the feeder. And these were just some of the animals that come to that feeder each summer day, all of which add joy to our lives. Also, the squirrels and every bird species in our yard come to our bird baths to drink and/or bathe, adding more beauty and intrigue to our neighborhood.
As the evening wore on, I repeatedly saw up to a half dozen chimney swifts careening swiftly across the sky after flying insects, their only food. Each swift flaps rapidly, then soars with its wings stiff and swept-back, like a shot arrow point without its shaft. Each swift, while soaring, banks left, then right across the sky in hot pursuit of its victims.
Eventually the swifts retired for the evening down the inside of chimneys where they also raise young. And soon I saw up to four or five little brown bats flickering, swooping and diving across the darkening sky after flying insects, their only food.
Swifts and bats consume the same kind of food, but are not in direct competition with each other because they hunt prey at different times of day. And the bats, like swifts, are entertaining to us who watch for them.
I had fun watching our back lawn with food-gathering critters in mind. Readers can do the same in most any habitat you are in.
A young cottontail rabbit was nibbling grass and white clover leaves while an adult and a young American robin ran and stopped, ran and stopped over the short grass in search of earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates. And I noticed a few each of worker honey bees and bumble bees visiting white clover flowers in our lawn. White clover is a major, reliable source of nectar to bees and other types of insects through summer. Regular mowing makes the clover plants produce more and still more blossoms to replace the ones cut off during each and every mowing.
I knew from past experiences that there are many kinds of invertebrates living in the soil and under mulch in our yard. Earthworms get nutrition by eating the soil itself. Slugs, a small kind of land snail, millipedes and wood lice eat decaying plant material, such as dead grass from mowing that filters down through living grass. Centipedes and firefly larvae feed on some of those little invertebrates.
That evening, a few kinds of birds repeatedly visited our sunflower feeder hanging in a sheltering bush, as they do off and on all day. A pair of Carolina chickadees, a tufted titmouse and a few each of house finches and house sparrows took turns getting sunflower seeds from the feeder, creating entertainment to us, as they always do. The house sparrows seem to be bullies in that some of them, sometimes, chase other small birds from the feeder. Meanwhile, a young northern cardinal with its typical dark beak, and its father, a gray squirrel and a mourning dove ate bits of sunflower seeds off the ground under the feeder. And these were just some of the animals that come to that feeder each summer day, all of which add joy to our lives. Also, the squirrels and every bird species in our yard come to our bird baths to drink and/or bathe, adding more beauty and intrigue to our neighborhood.
As the evening wore on, I repeatedly saw up to a half dozen chimney swifts careening swiftly across the sky after flying insects, their only food. Each swift flaps rapidly, then soars with its wings stiff and swept-back, like a shot arrow point without its shaft. Each swift, while soaring, banks left, then right across the sky in hot pursuit of its victims.
Eventually the swifts retired for the evening down the inside of chimneys where they also raise young. And soon I saw up to four or five little brown bats flickering, swooping and diving across the darkening sky after flying insects, their only food.
Swifts and bats consume the same kind of food, but are not in direct competition with each other because they hunt prey at different times of day. And the bats, like swifts, are entertaining to us who watch for them.
I had fun watching our back lawn with food-gathering critters in mind. Readers can do the same in most any habitat you are in.
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Hedgerow Wildlife in Summer
On June 23rd, this past, I slowly drove by a half-acre, abandoned meadow of tall grass and red clover in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, a pasture that has a multiflora rose hedgerow on one side of it and a row of black walnut and crack willow trees over a brook on the other side. I creeped by that pasture because it looked like it would be harboring some nesting species of small birds. Spotting a willow flycatcher perched on a dead twig near the road I was on, I quickly stopped the car. The flycatcher was poised to zip out and catch flying insects with its beak in mid-air and go back to its roost, or another one, to eat its victim. I used my car as a blind for an hour to watch for other kinds of birds in that little, human-made meadow. Any species I saw at this time of year would be nesting in the protective cover there.
I saw more kinds of small birds in the hedgerow than I did among the trees. In an hour's time I saw a male song sparrow singing from tree tops and the tips of shrubbery, a male house finch, a handsome pair of northern cardinals and a northern mockingbird. All those species are permanent residents in the hedgerow. And all are currently consuming invertebrates and feeding the same to young in their nurseries in the thickets of leaves and thorns. In the fall and winter, however, the first three species will be eating nearby weed and grass seeds and the mockers will be ingesting berries, especially those from multiflora rose bushes.
At least one pair each of summering willow flycatchers, gray catbirds and indigo buntings were also rearing offspring among the protective foliage and thorns of rose bushes. I saw all three kinds in the open, including a beautifully blue male indigo singing from a tip of a walnut tree. A male willow flycatcher was repeatedly singing an explosive, sneezing "fitz-bew" from an exposed perch among the shrubbery. There probably was only one or two families per species, because that is all the hedgerow could support. These species, too, fed their young on invertebrates. These types of birds will migrate south in the late summer or fall to find food sources that will sustain them through another northern winter.
Bird species I noted among the trees bordering the little pasture included a female American goldfinch, a male yellow-shafted flicker, a female Baltimore oriole, an eastern kingbird and a yellow warbler. All these birds, except the goldfinches, consume invertebrates in summer. And all of them, except the goldfinches, will go south for the winter.
The goldfinch pair probably will nest in July, if there is a patch of thistles nearby to make their cradle from thistle fluff and feed their young pre-digested thistles seeds. Goldfinches build their beautiful nurseries in the crotches of small trees or in shrubbery.
There are a few dead limbs among the living trees bordering the meadow. The flicker pair could, or did, chip a nesting cavity into one of those dead branches to rear youngsters.
The female oriole flew in and out of a tall black walnut tree where she probably had a deep, woven pouch of grasses and vines filled with babies. The hedgerow and a line of trees among fields, the stream, and the pasture make an ideal nesting environment for Baltimore orioles.
Eastern kingbirds also nest in lone trees in fields and pastures. And, being flycatchers, they perch on twigs and fences and flutter out after flying insects.
Yellow warblers seem partial to hatching young among willow trees, that mostly grow along waterways. Looking like yellow canaries, these warblers flit among the willows to catch a variety of small invertebrates.
There are many deserted meadows surrounded by hedgerows, streams and lines of trees in Lancaster County farmland that provide homes to a variety of wildlife, including nesting small birds. And, as noted, it's predictable what kinds of birds will nest in such habitats. Each species is tied to a certain niche. Free as a bird is not true. One has only to get out and experience what kinds of birds are raising young near your home. And you will soon be able to predict what species will be nesting in any given habitat you experience.
I saw more kinds of small birds in the hedgerow than I did among the trees. In an hour's time I saw a male song sparrow singing from tree tops and the tips of shrubbery, a male house finch, a handsome pair of northern cardinals and a northern mockingbird. All those species are permanent residents in the hedgerow. And all are currently consuming invertebrates and feeding the same to young in their nurseries in the thickets of leaves and thorns. In the fall and winter, however, the first three species will be eating nearby weed and grass seeds and the mockers will be ingesting berries, especially those from multiflora rose bushes.
At least one pair each of summering willow flycatchers, gray catbirds and indigo buntings were also rearing offspring among the protective foliage and thorns of rose bushes. I saw all three kinds in the open, including a beautifully blue male indigo singing from a tip of a walnut tree. A male willow flycatcher was repeatedly singing an explosive, sneezing "fitz-bew" from an exposed perch among the shrubbery. There probably was only one or two families per species, because that is all the hedgerow could support. These species, too, fed their young on invertebrates. These types of birds will migrate south in the late summer or fall to find food sources that will sustain them through another northern winter.
Bird species I noted among the trees bordering the little pasture included a female American goldfinch, a male yellow-shafted flicker, a female Baltimore oriole, an eastern kingbird and a yellow warbler. All these birds, except the goldfinches, consume invertebrates in summer. And all of them, except the goldfinches, will go south for the winter.
The goldfinch pair probably will nest in July, if there is a patch of thistles nearby to make their cradle from thistle fluff and feed their young pre-digested thistles seeds. Goldfinches build their beautiful nurseries in the crotches of small trees or in shrubbery.
There are a few dead limbs among the living trees bordering the meadow. The flicker pair could, or did, chip a nesting cavity into one of those dead branches to rear youngsters.
The female oriole flew in and out of a tall black walnut tree where she probably had a deep, woven pouch of grasses and vines filled with babies. The hedgerow and a line of trees among fields, the stream, and the pasture make an ideal nesting environment for Baltimore orioles.
Eastern kingbirds also nest in lone trees in fields and pastures. And, being flycatchers, they perch on twigs and fences and flutter out after flying insects.
Yellow warblers seem partial to hatching young among willow trees, that mostly grow along waterways. Looking like yellow canaries, these warblers flit among the willows to catch a variety of small invertebrates.
There are many deserted meadows surrounded by hedgerows, streams and lines of trees in Lancaster County farmland that provide homes to a variety of wildlife, including nesting small birds. And, as noted, it's predictable what kinds of birds will nest in such habitats. Each species is tied to a certain niche. Free as a bird is not true. One has only to get out and experience what kinds of birds are raising young near your home. And you will soon be able to predict what species will be nesting in any given habitat you experience.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Woodlot Wildlife in Summer
As I drove up to the southern edge of one of my favorite woodlots a mile outside New Holland, Pennsylvania in the middle of June, I saw a pair of eastern phoebes on dead twigs a few feet from the little, country bridge I was crossing and a gray catbird in inch-deep water of the stream the bridge spanned. I stopped my car and waited quietly inside to see what other creatures would appear. Any birds in that woodlot now would be nesters. But June is a tough month to watch for small, woodland birds because of the foliage and the birds' secrecy around their cradles and youngsters.
I stayed an hour on the edge of that 30-acre woodlot that first day and went back another three days in a row for an hour each trip. While there, I noted several animals of interest for a small patch of woods. And each species was where it belonged.
At one time or another, I saw several kinds of permanent resident woodland birds among the trees in those bottomland woods, including a pair of Carolina chickadees, a tufted titmouse, a white-breasted nuthatch and a downy woodpecker. I also heard a red-bellied woodpecker calling from the depths of the woods. Once, a handsome blue jay landed in a tiny, grassy clearing on the edge of the woods where I was parked and was eating something from the grass roots level. Another time, a male yellow-shafted flicker landed in that same opening to eat ants and other invertebrates on the ground. All the woodpecker species would be raising young in cavities they chipped into dead wood on limbs in that woodland.
I saw a permanent resident male American goldfinch, a song sparrow and a pair of northern cardinals, and a pair of summering gray catbirds among the shrubbery on the edge of the woods. Interestingly, the goldfinch, song sparrow, a catbird and a couple of purple grackles repeatedly waded in the inch-deep water to get food. The goldfinch ate alga while the song sparrow, catbird and grackles consumed invertebrates from the water. Those species were shore birds along that little stream in the woods. And, no doubt, the sparrows and catbirds were nesting in nearby shrubbery, but getting some of their food from the nearby and handy waterway.
The pair of phoebes had a nest on a support beam under the little bridge spanning the woodland waterway and were catching flying insects to feed to their young. Phoebes traditionally build mud and moss nurseries on rock ledges, under overhanging boulders near water in woods. To this pair of adaptable phoebes that bridge was a rock ledge under an overhanging boulder that protected their young well.
A few American robins, including a couple of spot-breasted young of the year, bathed in the shallows of the stream, vigorously dipping in the water and splashing it everywhere. Apparently, one or two pairs of robins nested on the edge of the woods, as this familiar species of thrush traditionally has done through its life history. Today, most robins raise offspring in young trees on lawns, reminescent of their nesting in saplings in woodland clearings before the coming of European colonists to North America.
A beautiful wood thrush, THEE bird of this woodlot, also bathed in the shallows of the stream at one point. Warm-brown on top, which camouflages this species on the dead-leaf litter of eastern North American forest floors, wood thrushes are white underneath, sprinkled with black spots. Occasionally, I could hear a wood thrush singing his flute-like "ee-o-lay" or " a-o-lee" songs back in the woods where the pair would nest in shrubbery.
A lovely female Baltimore oriole often fluttered in and out of a black walnut tree along the edge of the woodlot bordering a meadow. Some of the trees' limbs hung over the road I was on. No doubt, the oriole was feeding young in a deeply-pouched cradle she built on the tips of a few twigs at the end of a branch hanging over the road.
On one trip, I spotted a plain-brown, female indigo bunting feeding energetically on seeds of tall reed canary-grass on the sunny edge of the woods. She and her blue-feathered mate have a nest somewhere in the thickets on the margin of the woods.
A few male black-winged damselflies fluttered beautifully and daintily above the stream in the woods as they competed for mating territory along that waterway. They do have black wings, and iridescent-green abdomens that make them striking in the spotty sunlight of woodlands.
Female damselflies of this kind are sooty-gray all over. They blend into their environment better than their mates, which is good for the species because they are the ones laying eggs. Not all males of many species are needed for breeding.
Damselflies hatch under stones in streams and live there almost a year as larvae preying on tiny invertebrates. But they go through four-stage metamorphosis and emerge from waterways as winged adults ready to catch and eat flying insects, and mate to produce another generation of themselves.
I experienced a few other cold-blooded creatures in this woodlot in the few hours I was there. One day I saw a young northern water snake sneaking through the shallows of the stream after black-nosed dace and blunt-nosed minnows. Another day, I saw a garter snake undulating across the road I was on. And one late-morning, I heard several male green frogs gulping and belching in pools back in the woods. Some of those frogs would be fine, nightly food for local raccoons.
Again, as always, most any habitat, including human-made ones, has interesting plants and wildlife. All we have to do is to get and look for them.
I stayed an hour on the edge of that 30-acre woodlot that first day and went back another three days in a row for an hour each trip. While there, I noted several animals of interest for a small patch of woods. And each species was where it belonged.
At one time or another, I saw several kinds of permanent resident woodland birds among the trees in those bottomland woods, including a pair of Carolina chickadees, a tufted titmouse, a white-breasted nuthatch and a downy woodpecker. I also heard a red-bellied woodpecker calling from the depths of the woods. Once, a handsome blue jay landed in a tiny, grassy clearing on the edge of the woods where I was parked and was eating something from the grass roots level. Another time, a male yellow-shafted flicker landed in that same opening to eat ants and other invertebrates on the ground. All the woodpecker species would be raising young in cavities they chipped into dead wood on limbs in that woodland.
I saw a permanent resident male American goldfinch, a song sparrow and a pair of northern cardinals, and a pair of summering gray catbirds among the shrubbery on the edge of the woods. Interestingly, the goldfinch, song sparrow, a catbird and a couple of purple grackles repeatedly waded in the inch-deep water to get food. The goldfinch ate alga while the song sparrow, catbird and grackles consumed invertebrates from the water. Those species were shore birds along that little stream in the woods. And, no doubt, the sparrows and catbirds were nesting in nearby shrubbery, but getting some of their food from the nearby and handy waterway.
The pair of phoebes had a nest on a support beam under the little bridge spanning the woodland waterway and were catching flying insects to feed to their young. Phoebes traditionally build mud and moss nurseries on rock ledges, under overhanging boulders near water in woods. To this pair of adaptable phoebes that bridge was a rock ledge under an overhanging boulder that protected their young well.
A few American robins, including a couple of spot-breasted young of the year, bathed in the shallows of the stream, vigorously dipping in the water and splashing it everywhere. Apparently, one or two pairs of robins nested on the edge of the woods, as this familiar species of thrush traditionally has done through its life history. Today, most robins raise offspring in young trees on lawns, reminescent of their nesting in saplings in woodland clearings before the coming of European colonists to North America.
A beautiful wood thrush, THEE bird of this woodlot, also bathed in the shallows of the stream at one point. Warm-brown on top, which camouflages this species on the dead-leaf litter of eastern North American forest floors, wood thrushes are white underneath, sprinkled with black spots. Occasionally, I could hear a wood thrush singing his flute-like "ee-o-lay" or " a-o-lee" songs back in the woods where the pair would nest in shrubbery.
A lovely female Baltimore oriole often fluttered in and out of a black walnut tree along the edge of the woodlot bordering a meadow. Some of the trees' limbs hung over the road I was on. No doubt, the oriole was feeding young in a deeply-pouched cradle she built on the tips of a few twigs at the end of a branch hanging over the road.
On one trip, I spotted a plain-brown, female indigo bunting feeding energetically on seeds of tall reed canary-grass on the sunny edge of the woods. She and her blue-feathered mate have a nest somewhere in the thickets on the margin of the woods.
A few male black-winged damselflies fluttered beautifully and daintily above the stream in the woods as they competed for mating territory along that waterway. They do have black wings, and iridescent-green abdomens that make them striking in the spotty sunlight of woodlands.
Female damselflies of this kind are sooty-gray all over. They blend into their environment better than their mates, which is good for the species because they are the ones laying eggs. Not all males of many species are needed for breeding.
Damselflies hatch under stones in streams and live there almost a year as larvae preying on tiny invertebrates. But they go through four-stage metamorphosis and emerge from waterways as winged adults ready to catch and eat flying insects, and mate to produce another generation of themselves.
I experienced a few other cold-blooded creatures in this woodlot in the few hours I was there. One day I saw a young northern water snake sneaking through the shallows of the stream after black-nosed dace and blunt-nosed minnows. Another day, I saw a garter snake undulating across the road I was on. And one late-morning, I heard several male green frogs gulping and belching in pools back in the woods. Some of those frogs would be fine, nightly food for local raccoons.
Again, as always, most any habitat, including human-made ones, has interesting plants and wildlife. All we have to do is to get and look for them.
Monday, June 20, 2016
Young Creatures on Our Lawn
One morning early in May of 2016, I saw three half-grown gray squirrels eating sunflower seeds on the ground with their mother, a quarter-grown cottontail rabbit ingesting grass and clover, and two recently-fledged mourning doves consuming bits of sunflower seeds on our lawn. Annually I see many kinds of young creatures on our suburban lawn in New Holland, Pennsylvania, but not all at once. Those youngsters are always entertaining and speak of reproductive success in our neighborhood year after year. The young and their adaptable parents are lovely and interesting friends in our yard. And they feed on many weed seeds and insects.
The bushes, vines and trees planted on our lawn and in the neighborhood over the years provide natural shelter and food for these critters and others. And sheds, bird houses, bird baths, bird feeders and decks in that same home area help entice and hold wildlife species here.
The biggest family of nesting birds I see on our lawn is that of seed-eaters, including a pair each of permanent resident northern cardinals, song sparrows and house finches, and their offspring. These are all pretty birds with lovely songs. They come to our bird feeder and bird bath the year around. And, sometimes, I see these birds feeding their fledged youngsters on our lawn.
Mourning doves, most years, are in our yard the year around. And they are one of the first birds to court in spring, often on warmer afternoons early in February. Because each pair of doves raises two staggered broods of two young at the same time, it potentially can produce 12 youngsters in 6 months, or one pair of offspring per month, on average. But because broods of baby doves are lost through strong wind breaking up their flimsy cradles or crows, opossums and other predators eating eggs or chicks, each pair doesn't bring 12 young to maturity in a year.
House sparrows are originally from Europe, but have adapted well to North America, including in our neighborhood. It seems there are as many house sparrows here as all other kinds of birds together. These weaver finches from the Old World are attractive in their own plain way. And they bring their recently-fledged chicks to the bird bath and bird feeder, where I mostly get to see them.
Permanent resident blue jays and migrant American robins and purple grackles all nest in neighborhood coniferous trees that provide dense cover. The grackles hatch young in a group of half-grown Norway spruces in the neighborhood. And I see the young of all these species in our yard for a few weeks until they gain the strength to move elsewhere.
Summering gray catbirds and house wrens hatch young in our yard and most years I see their young after they leave their nurseries. Catbirds build twig cradles in bushes while house wrens nest in bird houses and tree cavities. Both these species consume invertebrates. Interestingly, I often see the catbirds watching mowers on the lawns. The mowers flush out small moths and other kinds of insects the catbirds catch and eat.
And there are four other species of interesting wild animals that I have seen their young only once in our yard, though I know they are, as species, in the neighborhood much of the time. One time, early in June, we had four recently-fledged screech owl youngsters on the four posts of our front porch railing, one on each post. Another time a female opossum walked through our neighborhood with about five cute, little young on her back, each one with its tiny tail curled over hers. I saw a brood of baby chickadees on our lawn one summer. They hatched in a wren house we erected in the yard. And one spring, a mallard hen hatched 12 ducklings under a bush on our lawn. When the hen left her nursery with her young, the cute, little babies followed her like a winding stream of fuzz all in a line.
Suburban lawns with their trees, shrubbery, bird feeders and baths, and out-buildings can be interesting wildlife habitats. Wherever a species of life's needs are met, there it will be.
The bushes, vines and trees planted on our lawn and in the neighborhood over the years provide natural shelter and food for these critters and others. And sheds, bird houses, bird baths, bird feeders and decks in that same home area help entice and hold wildlife species here.
The biggest family of nesting birds I see on our lawn is that of seed-eaters, including a pair each of permanent resident northern cardinals, song sparrows and house finches, and their offspring. These are all pretty birds with lovely songs. They come to our bird feeder and bird bath the year around. And, sometimes, I see these birds feeding their fledged youngsters on our lawn.
Mourning doves, most years, are in our yard the year around. And they are one of the first birds to court in spring, often on warmer afternoons early in February. Because each pair of doves raises two staggered broods of two young at the same time, it potentially can produce 12 youngsters in 6 months, or one pair of offspring per month, on average. But because broods of baby doves are lost through strong wind breaking up their flimsy cradles or crows, opossums and other predators eating eggs or chicks, each pair doesn't bring 12 young to maturity in a year.
House sparrows are originally from Europe, but have adapted well to North America, including in our neighborhood. It seems there are as many house sparrows here as all other kinds of birds together. These weaver finches from the Old World are attractive in their own plain way. And they bring their recently-fledged chicks to the bird bath and bird feeder, where I mostly get to see them.
Permanent resident blue jays and migrant American robins and purple grackles all nest in neighborhood coniferous trees that provide dense cover. The grackles hatch young in a group of half-grown Norway spruces in the neighborhood. And I see the young of all these species in our yard for a few weeks until they gain the strength to move elsewhere.
Summering gray catbirds and house wrens hatch young in our yard and most years I see their young after they leave their nurseries. Catbirds build twig cradles in bushes while house wrens nest in bird houses and tree cavities. Both these species consume invertebrates. Interestingly, I often see the catbirds watching mowers on the lawns. The mowers flush out small moths and other kinds of insects the catbirds catch and eat.
And there are four other species of interesting wild animals that I have seen their young only once in our yard, though I know they are, as species, in the neighborhood much of the time. One time, early in June, we had four recently-fledged screech owl youngsters on the four posts of our front porch railing, one on each post. Another time a female opossum walked through our neighborhood with about five cute, little young on her back, each one with its tiny tail curled over hers. I saw a brood of baby chickadees on our lawn one summer. They hatched in a wren house we erected in the yard. And one spring, a mallard hen hatched 12 ducklings under a bush on our lawn. When the hen left her nursery with her young, the cute, little babies followed her like a winding stream of fuzz all in a line.
Suburban lawns with their trees, shrubbery, bird feeders and baths, and out-buildings can be interesting wildlife habitats. Wherever a species of life's needs are met, there it will be.
Friday, June 17, 2016
A Few Days in Cape May
For a few days early in June of this year, my wife, Sue, and I visited Cape May County, New Jersey. We mostly explored natural areas, including beaches, and salt marshes between the barrier beaches and the mainland, not by bush wacking, but from people-use areas, as many people would see that region. Anybody who looks for nature a little will see the same obvious creatures we did.
Always abundant, attractive and on the move in search of food, laughing gulls almost undoubtedly will be the first creatures seen and heard in Cape May County. They have a loud, characteristic call that sounds like someone laughing.
Laughing gulls visit beaches, boardwalks and parking lots where they scavenge people food, salt marshes where each pair raises about three young, fields where they eat earthworms and other invertebrates and coastal waters of the Atlantic Ocean and Delaware Bay where they get aquatic food, including live and dead fish. Laughing gulls are THEE gulls of the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts from Massachusetts to Texas, including Chesapeake and Delaware Bays and much of Florida.
The extensive, grassy salt marshes between the barrier beaches and the wooded mainland from Cape May north to Ocean City are flat and veined with tidal channels. Salt water surges in and out of these channels along with the ocean tides. Sometimes the channels are full of water and other times they are only half-full, with much exposed mud flats on both sides of each one.
We visited the salt marshes around Cape May, Wildwood and Stone Harbor a few times. The birds we saw mostly in those marshes were the large, white great egrets and snowy egrets, which were there to catch fish, crabs and other critters. Great egrets are twice the size of snowies and both species could be seen from a distance.
We saw other kinds of birds in and over those same salt marshes in those few days in June. We saw a group of nine glossy ibis poking their long, decurved beaks into the mud under the grass to catch crabs, worms and other types of invertebrates. Incidentally, we also saw another gathering of seven ibis poking into a large, fresh-water puddle on somebody's lawn to get food.
We saw several individual ospreys flying, soaring and hovering over the salt marsh channels in their search for large fish to catch and eat, and feed to their young. These ospreys nest on flat platforms erected in the marshes by people to help ospreys increase their populations. When an osprey spots a vulnerable fish it dives headfirst to the water and catches the prey with its curved, sharp talons, splashing on the water's surface in the process. Then it lifts from the water with mighty wing beats and flies to a perch to eat its catch or feed it to its offspring.
We saw several male red-winged blackbirds, that were splendid in their black feathering with red shoulder patches, singing "o-ka-lee" from phragmites and the tops of bushes and trees on the edges of the salt marshes. We only saw a few female red-wings in their brown and black-streaked plumage, but they were busy with nest-building among the phragmites or setting on eggs or small young.
We also saw a few common terns hovering over salt marsh channels to watch for small fish and diving into the water when a finny victim was spotted. We saw a willet snaring invertebrates in the mud of a salt marsh pool. Willets are a kind of large sandpiper that has a nesting population in salt marshes along the east coast. A clapper rail was spotted walking along a mud flat near salt marsh grasses in its search for invertebrates in the exposed mud before the water comes back. And an adult bald eagle was seen over a salt marsh where it probably was searching for fish to catch, or steal from an osprey.
Diamond-backed terrapins are in these salt marshes, but we didn't see any on this visit to Cape May. The Wetlands Institute, located in a salt marsh just outside Stone Harbor, is restoring the terrapin's population by protecting nests of eggs in the sand with wire covers to keep raccoons, gulls and herons from eating the eggs and newly-hatched young. And personnel from that institute get viable eggs from road-killed females and hatch and raise the young until they are big enough not to be readily eaten by predators.
Sue and I saw a few remaining spawning horseshoe crabs, which are not really crabs, on Delaware Bay beaches near where the bay empties into the ocean. A handful of laughing gulls attended those prehistoric critters to eat as many of their eggs as they could. A couple of weeks ago, many thousands of horseshoe crabs were on the beaches of both sides of Delaware Bay to spawn millions of little green eggs. Then thousands of laughing gulls and tens of thousands of sandpipers of at least four kinds, least sandpipers, sanderlings, red knots and ruddy turnstones, were on hand to eat those eggs, creating a unique natural spectacle for several days. The shorebirds used the energy from those ingested eggs to make the last part of their trip from South America and the Caribbean to the Arctic tundra to raise young.
While on Cape May beaches we also saw a few each of flying black skimmers and common terns and one least tern. These related birds nest on beaches and catch small fish from large bodies of water along the coast, the skimmers in a unique way. Skimmers' lower mandibles are longer than their upper ones. They poke the tip of their lower mandible in the water and fly just above the water. When a small fish bumps their mandibles, skimmers snap their beaks shut, thus capturing the prey.
We also saw several surfacing bottle-nosed dolphins from Sunset Beach where Delaware Bay pours into the Atlantic. Those whale relatives are always a treat to see, partly because one doesn't see them every day, though I have seen dolphins from beaches at Hilton Head and Charleston, South Carolina, and the outer banks of North Carolina.
Groups of these dolphins swim along under water, each mammal surfacing about every twelve or more seconds to exhale and inhale air, then diving under again and moving forward. They often travel near coastlines, the reason they are sometimes noticed from beaches.
Bottle-nosed dolphins are the most common of dolphins in North America. They are gray, up to twelve feet long, with a beak about three inches long. They mostly eat fish and squid.
We saw a few each of fish crows and boat-tailed grackles around Cape May and the marshes around it, and a thriving purple martin colony by the parking lot at Cape May Point State Park. Scores of martins were constantly flying toward and away from their grouping of purple martin nest boxes, making an entertaining, inspiring spectacle.
Northern mockingbirds were everywhere in abundance wherever there were thickets of bushes and vines, in the towns and countryside. We would see them on lawns, flying across streets and flitting into jungles of shrubbery. And, sometimes, we would hear them sing.
And we saw a beautiful, healthy female box turtle safely cross a rural road. She probably was looking for a place to lay her three to five eggs in a hole she would dig in the sandy soil since June is turtle nesting season.
All these animals we saw by casually looking for them. Anyone can do the same in Cape May County, New Jersey.
Always abundant, attractive and on the move in search of food, laughing gulls almost undoubtedly will be the first creatures seen and heard in Cape May County. They have a loud, characteristic call that sounds like someone laughing.
Laughing gulls visit beaches, boardwalks and parking lots where they scavenge people food, salt marshes where each pair raises about three young, fields where they eat earthworms and other invertebrates and coastal waters of the Atlantic Ocean and Delaware Bay where they get aquatic food, including live and dead fish. Laughing gulls are THEE gulls of the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts from Massachusetts to Texas, including Chesapeake and Delaware Bays and much of Florida.
The extensive, grassy salt marshes between the barrier beaches and the wooded mainland from Cape May north to Ocean City are flat and veined with tidal channels. Salt water surges in and out of these channels along with the ocean tides. Sometimes the channels are full of water and other times they are only half-full, with much exposed mud flats on both sides of each one.
We visited the salt marshes around Cape May, Wildwood and Stone Harbor a few times. The birds we saw mostly in those marshes were the large, white great egrets and snowy egrets, which were there to catch fish, crabs and other critters. Great egrets are twice the size of snowies and both species could be seen from a distance.
We saw other kinds of birds in and over those same salt marshes in those few days in June. We saw a group of nine glossy ibis poking their long, decurved beaks into the mud under the grass to catch crabs, worms and other types of invertebrates. Incidentally, we also saw another gathering of seven ibis poking into a large, fresh-water puddle on somebody's lawn to get food.
We saw several individual ospreys flying, soaring and hovering over the salt marsh channels in their search for large fish to catch and eat, and feed to their young. These ospreys nest on flat platforms erected in the marshes by people to help ospreys increase their populations. When an osprey spots a vulnerable fish it dives headfirst to the water and catches the prey with its curved, sharp talons, splashing on the water's surface in the process. Then it lifts from the water with mighty wing beats and flies to a perch to eat its catch or feed it to its offspring.
We saw several male red-winged blackbirds, that were splendid in their black feathering with red shoulder patches, singing "o-ka-lee" from phragmites and the tops of bushes and trees on the edges of the salt marshes. We only saw a few female red-wings in their brown and black-streaked plumage, but they were busy with nest-building among the phragmites or setting on eggs or small young.
We also saw a few common terns hovering over salt marsh channels to watch for small fish and diving into the water when a finny victim was spotted. We saw a willet snaring invertebrates in the mud of a salt marsh pool. Willets are a kind of large sandpiper that has a nesting population in salt marshes along the east coast. A clapper rail was spotted walking along a mud flat near salt marsh grasses in its search for invertebrates in the exposed mud before the water comes back. And an adult bald eagle was seen over a salt marsh where it probably was searching for fish to catch, or steal from an osprey.
Diamond-backed terrapins are in these salt marshes, but we didn't see any on this visit to Cape May. The Wetlands Institute, located in a salt marsh just outside Stone Harbor, is restoring the terrapin's population by protecting nests of eggs in the sand with wire covers to keep raccoons, gulls and herons from eating the eggs and newly-hatched young. And personnel from that institute get viable eggs from road-killed females and hatch and raise the young until they are big enough not to be readily eaten by predators.
Sue and I saw a few remaining spawning horseshoe crabs, which are not really crabs, on Delaware Bay beaches near where the bay empties into the ocean. A handful of laughing gulls attended those prehistoric critters to eat as many of their eggs as they could. A couple of weeks ago, many thousands of horseshoe crabs were on the beaches of both sides of Delaware Bay to spawn millions of little green eggs. Then thousands of laughing gulls and tens of thousands of sandpipers of at least four kinds, least sandpipers, sanderlings, red knots and ruddy turnstones, were on hand to eat those eggs, creating a unique natural spectacle for several days. The shorebirds used the energy from those ingested eggs to make the last part of their trip from South America and the Caribbean to the Arctic tundra to raise young.
While on Cape May beaches we also saw a few each of flying black skimmers and common terns and one least tern. These related birds nest on beaches and catch small fish from large bodies of water along the coast, the skimmers in a unique way. Skimmers' lower mandibles are longer than their upper ones. They poke the tip of their lower mandible in the water and fly just above the water. When a small fish bumps their mandibles, skimmers snap their beaks shut, thus capturing the prey.
We also saw several surfacing bottle-nosed dolphins from Sunset Beach where Delaware Bay pours into the Atlantic. Those whale relatives are always a treat to see, partly because one doesn't see them every day, though I have seen dolphins from beaches at Hilton Head and Charleston, South Carolina, and the outer banks of North Carolina.
Groups of these dolphins swim along under water, each mammal surfacing about every twelve or more seconds to exhale and inhale air, then diving under again and moving forward. They often travel near coastlines, the reason they are sometimes noticed from beaches.
Bottle-nosed dolphins are the most common of dolphins in North America. They are gray, up to twelve feet long, with a beak about three inches long. They mostly eat fish and squid.
We saw a few each of fish crows and boat-tailed grackles around Cape May and the marshes around it, and a thriving purple martin colony by the parking lot at Cape May Point State Park. Scores of martins were constantly flying toward and away from their grouping of purple martin nest boxes, making an entertaining, inspiring spectacle.
Northern mockingbirds were everywhere in abundance wherever there were thickets of bushes and vines, in the towns and countryside. We would see them on lawns, flying across streets and flitting into jungles of shrubbery. And, sometimes, we would hear them sing.
And we saw a beautiful, healthy female box turtle safely cross a rural road. She probably was looking for a place to lay her three to five eggs in a hole she would dig in the sandy soil since June is turtle nesting season.
All these animals we saw by casually looking for them. Anyone can do the same in Cape May County, New Jersey.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Mill Creek at Mascot in Summer
Mill Creek at the hamlet of Mascot in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania is an oasis of slow-moving creek a quarter mile long, along a narrow wetland under a thin, battered riparian woods completely surrounded by farmland. One side of this waterway is bordered by short-grass pastures and a small, slender public park of short grass and a few trees. The other side is a small, lean wildlife sanctuary because of its abundance of protective vegetation. The ground level of this sanctuary is dominated by skunk cabbage, reed canary-grass, stinging nettle and spotted jewelweeds. Elderberry bushes and gray-stem dogwoods compose much of the shrub level and black walnut, ash-leafed maple, silver maple, crab apple and mulberry trees dominate the canopy. Virginia creeper and poison ivy vines crawl high up the trees.
Skunk cabbage plants are a moisture-loving species of bottomland forests. This plant, however, adapts to sunnier conditions when woodland canopies are removed, if the ground moisture remains.
Some dead, but still-standing, trees at Mascot are riddled with old woodpecker holes. A few kinds of small, woodlands birds, such as permanent resident Carolina chickadees, tufted titmice and summering house wrens nest in some of those tree hollows.
By the middle of May, a few female wood ducks hatch broods of about 12 young each in larger tree cavities or in wood duck nest boxes erected for them. I see these broods of ducklings growing up now and then during each summer.
A few pairs of red-winged blackbirds nest in the tall reed canary-grass, a grass that grows well in sunlight. Singing males swaying on the tall grasses are handsome in their black feathering and red shoulder patches. Those males drive crows and other would-be predators away from young red-wings and help feed the offspring. Brown, dark-striped female red-wings build grassy nests they attach to reed canary-grass stems a few feet above the ground. They also do the bulk of feeding their chicks in their nurseries and after the young fledge.
A pair of spotted sandpipers, a species of shorebird that nests inland throughout most of the Lower 48 States, catches and eats invertebrates on the dam of this creek, its shorelines and trees fallen into the water. Spotty pairs also raise young along this creek, as they do by most other waterways and impoundments in the United States.
Every summer, a pair or two of rough-winged swallows builds cradles of grass in drainage pipes in the retaining wall of the dam. This nesting niche is a substitute for the swallows' tradition of digging holes in streambanks to raise young. Rough-wings zip over the water and nearby fields and pastures to catch flying insects to ingest.
A pair or two each of summering Baltimore orioles, cedar waxwings and eastern kingbirds rear offspring in riparian trees by the creek. Each species consumes a variety of invertebrates and feed them to their youngsters. Waxwings and kingbirds fly out from twig perches to snare flying insects. Female orioles make beautiful, deep pouches of grasses, twigs and vines on twigs at the tips of branches hanging over the creek.
Permanent resident northern cardinals, song sparrows and American goldfinches and summering gray catbirds and willow flycatchers nest in streamside shrubbery. All these birds, except the goldfinches, feed on invertebrates. The goldfinches consume thistle seeds and other kinds of seeds.
Carp and bluegill sunfish spawn during May and into June in the slow-moving shallows of this creek. The carp thrash and splash in the shallow shores of the creek.
Several bluegill nests in a cluster are visible in inches-deep water near the dam. Each male removes alga and dead leaves from the bottom of the waterway to make a nursery about a foot in diameter. Each nest is guarded by the male that made it. And when a female bluegill swims over a nest, its constructor swims tightly around and around with her and fertilizes her eggs as they exit her and settle in the nest. In this way, each male bluegill courts as many females as he can. Meanwhile, he guards the eggs and small fry in the nest from other fish, including his own kind.
Other kinds of cold-blooded, aquatic creatures inhabit this part of Mill Creek and are active and visible in summer. Male green frogs and bull frogs croak and bellow respectively in May, June and July. A few snapping turtles are here, forever searching for prey. Bluet damselflies and green darner and white-tailed dragonflies cruise low over the water in search of mates, and flying insects to eat.
Adult dragonflies are large and entertaining insects when in flight. And many of them have attractive colors. But they are harmless to people.
A few kinds of creatures have put in cameo appearances in summer in the sanctuary along Mill Creek at Mascot. I once saw two white-tailed deer in a thicket by the creek. Another time, I saw a moorhen stalking invertebrates among the reed canary-grass along the shore of the waterway. I wondered if it nested there? And one summer, I saw an adult bald eagle perched in a large tree over the creek and stalking fish. This might have been one of a pair of eagles feeding young in a nest a mile away from Mascot.
That short, thin strip of riparian woods and wetland in the middle of extensive cropland at Mascot is a wildlife sanctuary in name and reality. It is amazing how much adaptable life can be found in an oasis of natural shelter and food, almost no matter where it is located and how little it may be. Wherever a species of life's needs are met, that species will be there.
Skunk cabbage plants are a moisture-loving species of bottomland forests. This plant, however, adapts to sunnier conditions when woodland canopies are removed, if the ground moisture remains.
Some dead, but still-standing, trees at Mascot are riddled with old woodpecker holes. A few kinds of small, woodlands birds, such as permanent resident Carolina chickadees, tufted titmice and summering house wrens nest in some of those tree hollows.
By the middle of May, a few female wood ducks hatch broods of about 12 young each in larger tree cavities or in wood duck nest boxes erected for them. I see these broods of ducklings growing up now and then during each summer.
A few pairs of red-winged blackbirds nest in the tall reed canary-grass, a grass that grows well in sunlight. Singing males swaying on the tall grasses are handsome in their black feathering and red shoulder patches. Those males drive crows and other would-be predators away from young red-wings and help feed the offspring. Brown, dark-striped female red-wings build grassy nests they attach to reed canary-grass stems a few feet above the ground. They also do the bulk of feeding their chicks in their nurseries and after the young fledge.
A pair of spotted sandpipers, a species of shorebird that nests inland throughout most of the Lower 48 States, catches and eats invertebrates on the dam of this creek, its shorelines and trees fallen into the water. Spotty pairs also raise young along this creek, as they do by most other waterways and impoundments in the United States.
Every summer, a pair or two of rough-winged swallows builds cradles of grass in drainage pipes in the retaining wall of the dam. This nesting niche is a substitute for the swallows' tradition of digging holes in streambanks to raise young. Rough-wings zip over the water and nearby fields and pastures to catch flying insects to ingest.
A pair or two each of summering Baltimore orioles, cedar waxwings and eastern kingbirds rear offspring in riparian trees by the creek. Each species consumes a variety of invertebrates and feed them to their youngsters. Waxwings and kingbirds fly out from twig perches to snare flying insects. Female orioles make beautiful, deep pouches of grasses, twigs and vines on twigs at the tips of branches hanging over the creek.
Permanent resident northern cardinals, song sparrows and American goldfinches and summering gray catbirds and willow flycatchers nest in streamside shrubbery. All these birds, except the goldfinches, feed on invertebrates. The goldfinches consume thistle seeds and other kinds of seeds.
Carp and bluegill sunfish spawn during May and into June in the slow-moving shallows of this creek. The carp thrash and splash in the shallow shores of the creek.
Several bluegill nests in a cluster are visible in inches-deep water near the dam. Each male removes alga and dead leaves from the bottom of the waterway to make a nursery about a foot in diameter. Each nest is guarded by the male that made it. And when a female bluegill swims over a nest, its constructor swims tightly around and around with her and fertilizes her eggs as they exit her and settle in the nest. In this way, each male bluegill courts as many females as he can. Meanwhile, he guards the eggs and small fry in the nest from other fish, including his own kind.
Other kinds of cold-blooded, aquatic creatures inhabit this part of Mill Creek and are active and visible in summer. Male green frogs and bull frogs croak and bellow respectively in May, June and July. A few snapping turtles are here, forever searching for prey. Bluet damselflies and green darner and white-tailed dragonflies cruise low over the water in search of mates, and flying insects to eat.
Adult dragonflies are large and entertaining insects when in flight. And many of them have attractive colors. But they are harmless to people.
A few kinds of creatures have put in cameo appearances in summer in the sanctuary along Mill Creek at Mascot. I once saw two white-tailed deer in a thicket by the creek. Another time, I saw a moorhen stalking invertebrates among the reed canary-grass along the shore of the waterway. I wondered if it nested there? And one summer, I saw an adult bald eagle perched in a large tree over the creek and stalking fish. This might have been one of a pair of eagles feeding young in a nest a mile away from Mascot.
That short, thin strip of riparian woods and wetland in the middle of extensive cropland at Mascot is a wildlife sanctuary in name and reality. It is amazing how much adaptable life can be found in an oasis of natural shelter and food, almost no matter where it is located and how little it may be. Wherever a species of life's needs are met, that species will be there.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Local Extraordinary Nests
Every nest is a secret that should be left alone. But some bird nurseries are found by accident and the beauty and miracle that went into each one is inspiring. And many are seen in winter when the foliage is off deciduous trees and bushes.
The nests of several kinds of small birds nesting in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere in North America, are beautiful and/or unusual, lending more touches of intrigue to this overly populated area. Most of the bird species that make those lovely cradles are camouflaged and eat invertebrates during the warmer months when those little creatures are available. And all bird species create their lovely cradles by instinct. They are born with the knowledge of nest building.
Female Baltimore orioles are famous for their unique and beautiful pouches swinging from the twiggy tips of tree branches that hang over meadows, water, roads and other open habitats. Each oriole weaves rootlets, twigs and grasses through each other and over the supporting twigs to attach their three-inch-deep creations to them.
The lovely nurseries of American goldfinches are mostly made of thistle seed down. In fact, female goldfinches generally don't build nests until July when thistle plants develop seeds, each one with a fluffy parachute that carries it away on the wind.
The soft, beautiful goldfinch cradles are composed of thistle down and fine grasses, and held together and attached to twigs on a young tree by spider webs. Goldfinches mostly eat thistle seeds and other seeds as they become available.
The only blue-gray gnatcatcher nests I have ever seen are those blown to the ground by strong wind. Gnatcatchers are tiny birds of wooded bottomlands. Females make their pretty, little cradles of plant down, fine grass and bits of lichens and bind them together, and to twigs, with spider webbing. The lichens on the outside walls help camouflage those nests.
The tiny, lovely nurseries of ruby-throated hummingbirds are nearly impossible to see perched on top of thin limbs. But if spotted, each one looks like a little fairy bed on a small branch. Only an inch and a half across, ruby-throats' soft cradles are made of plant fibers and lichens and, again, bound together and to the branch by spider webs. Hummingbirds ingest nectar and tiny insects.
Chipping sparrows make pretty, little nurseries of fine grasses, lined with hair, where available. Most chippers build their nests in planted, young arborvitae trees that have flattened, closely packed needles that create great shelter against predators and the weather.
The pretty, little cradles of red-eyed vireos and Acadian flycatchers, as examples of their respective families, are made of grass, rootlets and plant fibers and suspended below thin, forked twigs at the ends of limbs. They are held in shape and attached to supporting twigs by, you guessed it, spider webbing. Spiders, obviously, are important to many kinds of small birds that build little nurseries to hatch their young in.
Chimney swifts build platforms of small twigs on the inside walls of chimneys in towns and cities. They use their saliva as a strong glue to bind the twigs to each other and to a wall.
Swifts originally nested down the inside of hollow, broken-off trees, but, to them, chimneys are like those tree hollows. And because of the number of chimneys in North America today, there are more swifts than ever in their life history. Swifts spend all day, every day, zipping across the sky after flying insects, their only food.
Barn swallows and cliff swallows plaster mud pellet cradles on support beams in barns and under bridges, and on the sides of buildings. They originally nested in the mouths of caves and on cliffs respectively. But like swifts, they are more abundant today than ever before because of the many human-made structures they nest on. And like swifts, they catch flying insects all day, but in farmland.
Nearly impossible to see from the ground, the pretty nests of eastern wood pewees are tied by spider webbing to the upper sides of thin, horizontal tree limbs in woodlands. Pewee nurseries are made of twigs, rootlets, plant fibers, lichens and spider webs. Male pewees sing lovely "pee-a-wee, pee-oooo" songs off and on all day. But their whistled phrases are particularly heart-rending at dusk and into the gathering darkness.
Most of these birds' nests are hard to spot, but it's neat to know they are out there with lots of beauties. Bird nurseries should always be left alone, but some of those cradles are visible in winter when they are not being used.
The nests of several kinds of small birds nesting in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere in North America, are beautiful and/or unusual, lending more touches of intrigue to this overly populated area. Most of the bird species that make those lovely cradles are camouflaged and eat invertebrates during the warmer months when those little creatures are available. And all bird species create their lovely cradles by instinct. They are born with the knowledge of nest building.
Female Baltimore orioles are famous for their unique and beautiful pouches swinging from the twiggy tips of tree branches that hang over meadows, water, roads and other open habitats. Each oriole weaves rootlets, twigs and grasses through each other and over the supporting twigs to attach their three-inch-deep creations to them.
The lovely nurseries of American goldfinches are mostly made of thistle seed down. In fact, female goldfinches generally don't build nests until July when thistle plants develop seeds, each one with a fluffy parachute that carries it away on the wind.
The soft, beautiful goldfinch cradles are composed of thistle down and fine grasses, and held together and attached to twigs on a young tree by spider webs. Goldfinches mostly eat thistle seeds and other seeds as they become available.
The only blue-gray gnatcatcher nests I have ever seen are those blown to the ground by strong wind. Gnatcatchers are tiny birds of wooded bottomlands. Females make their pretty, little cradles of plant down, fine grass and bits of lichens and bind them together, and to twigs, with spider webbing. The lichens on the outside walls help camouflage those nests.
The tiny, lovely nurseries of ruby-throated hummingbirds are nearly impossible to see perched on top of thin limbs. But if spotted, each one looks like a little fairy bed on a small branch. Only an inch and a half across, ruby-throats' soft cradles are made of plant fibers and lichens and, again, bound together and to the branch by spider webs. Hummingbirds ingest nectar and tiny insects.
Chipping sparrows make pretty, little nurseries of fine grasses, lined with hair, where available. Most chippers build their nests in planted, young arborvitae trees that have flattened, closely packed needles that create great shelter against predators and the weather.
The pretty, little cradles of red-eyed vireos and Acadian flycatchers, as examples of their respective families, are made of grass, rootlets and plant fibers and suspended below thin, forked twigs at the ends of limbs. They are held in shape and attached to supporting twigs by, you guessed it, spider webbing. Spiders, obviously, are important to many kinds of small birds that build little nurseries to hatch their young in.
Chimney swifts build platforms of small twigs on the inside walls of chimneys in towns and cities. They use their saliva as a strong glue to bind the twigs to each other and to a wall.
Swifts originally nested down the inside of hollow, broken-off trees, but, to them, chimneys are like those tree hollows. And because of the number of chimneys in North America today, there are more swifts than ever in their life history. Swifts spend all day, every day, zipping across the sky after flying insects, their only food.
Barn swallows and cliff swallows plaster mud pellet cradles on support beams in barns and under bridges, and on the sides of buildings. They originally nested in the mouths of caves and on cliffs respectively. But like swifts, they are more abundant today than ever before because of the many human-made structures they nest on. And like swifts, they catch flying insects all day, but in farmland.
Nearly impossible to see from the ground, the pretty nests of eastern wood pewees are tied by spider webbing to the upper sides of thin, horizontal tree limbs in woodlands. Pewee nurseries are made of twigs, rootlets, plant fibers, lichens and spider webs. Male pewees sing lovely "pee-a-wee, pee-oooo" songs off and on all day. But their whistled phrases are particularly heart-rending at dusk and into the gathering darkness.
Most of these birds' nests are hard to spot, but it's neat to know they are out there with lots of beauties. Bird nurseries should always be left alone, but some of those cradles are visible in winter when they are not being used.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Nesting in Woodland Layers
By nesting at different levels in deciduous woods of the Mid-Atlantic States, a variety of small birds raise young in the same forests with reduced competition for food and nursery sites among them. Each woodland has six layers from the bottom up, the stream level, leaf-covered, bottomland floors, upland floors, shrub layers, young tree layer and the canopy. And each level has a few kinds of birds nesting and foraging for invertebrates in it. Some species use more than one level, allowing them to overlap other species. And most of these birds blend into their niche or niches, helping protect them from predators.
Louisiana waterthrushes, which is a kind of warbler, and Acadian flycatchers nest at the stream level in woods, the former species in crevices in the stream banks themselves, often behind tree roots, and the latter kind in a hanging cup on tree twigs brushing low to waterways. Both species eat invertebrates, the waterthrushes from under stones in shallow water and stream edges, and the flycatchers from the air.
Veeries, which are a type of thrush, and worm-eating warblers rear offspring on dead-leaf, bottomland forest floors near small waterways in the woods. Worm-eaters specialize in nesting on woodland slopes just above the waterways.
On upland forest floors, ovenbirds, which are a species of warbler, and whip-poor-wills, a type of nightjar, hatch youngsters in the leaf litter. Ovenbirds build a leafy dome over their nurseries and create an entrance in the side of each one. Whip-poor-wills, which are so-named because of their loud, repetitive night calls, lay two eggs per clutch on top of the leafy carpet. Ovenbirds consume invertebrates from the woodland floors by day and whip-poor-wills catch flying insects at night.
Female wood thrushes and rose-breasted grosbeaks build nests in the shrub and sapling tree layers. The thrushes get much of their food from the forest floor as their relatives, the robins, do from grassy lawns. The grosbeaks feed mostly in the shrub layer. Male rose-breasts are black on top and white below, with red on their chests, hence their species name. Male wood thrushes sing lovely, flute-like songs while the grosbeaks have robin-like songs that are more melodious than the robins'.
Three species of common birds, scarlet tanagers, red-eyed vireos and eastern wood pewees, which are a kind of flycatcher, feed and nest in or near forest canopies, or treetops, though they are hard to see among the foliage so high and against the bright sky. A key to identifying them in the canopy is to know and hear their distinctive songs.
Tanagers mostly nest 50 feet or more high in the canopies of oak trees in the forests. Females make flimsy cradles of twigs, bark strips, rootlets and grass on forks of twigs. Female tanagers are green, which allows them to blend into their treetop habitats, but their mates are red with black wings and tails. Tanagers eat sluggish insects from canopies, and forest floors at times.
Female red-eyed vireos build cups of bark strips, twigs, wasp nest paper and suspend them below forks of twigs with spider webbing about ten to fifteen feet above the ground. Vireos ingest insects from treetop foliage and that's where the males sing their short, but unending series of phrases most all day every summer day. For this they are called preacher birds.
Female eastern wood pewees create pretty nests on top of small, horizontal limbs of forest trees, nurseries that are hard to see from below. Each cradle is an open cup of bark strips, grasses and lichens attached to the branch by spider webbing about fifteen to sixty feet above the ground. Pewees catch flying insects at all levels in the woods and males sing a beautiful, whistled "pee-a wee, pee-oooo", which is particularly heart-rending at dusk.
Watch and listen for these birds in summer woodlands in the Middle Atlantic States. Many species nest there because each kind uses a different niche in various forest layers with limited interference of other types of birds.
Louisiana waterthrushes, which is a kind of warbler, and Acadian flycatchers nest at the stream level in woods, the former species in crevices in the stream banks themselves, often behind tree roots, and the latter kind in a hanging cup on tree twigs brushing low to waterways. Both species eat invertebrates, the waterthrushes from under stones in shallow water and stream edges, and the flycatchers from the air.
Veeries, which are a type of thrush, and worm-eating warblers rear offspring on dead-leaf, bottomland forest floors near small waterways in the woods. Worm-eaters specialize in nesting on woodland slopes just above the waterways.
On upland forest floors, ovenbirds, which are a species of warbler, and whip-poor-wills, a type of nightjar, hatch youngsters in the leaf litter. Ovenbirds build a leafy dome over their nurseries and create an entrance in the side of each one. Whip-poor-wills, which are so-named because of their loud, repetitive night calls, lay two eggs per clutch on top of the leafy carpet. Ovenbirds consume invertebrates from the woodland floors by day and whip-poor-wills catch flying insects at night.
Female wood thrushes and rose-breasted grosbeaks build nests in the shrub and sapling tree layers. The thrushes get much of their food from the forest floor as their relatives, the robins, do from grassy lawns. The grosbeaks feed mostly in the shrub layer. Male rose-breasts are black on top and white below, with red on their chests, hence their species name. Male wood thrushes sing lovely, flute-like songs while the grosbeaks have robin-like songs that are more melodious than the robins'.
Three species of common birds, scarlet tanagers, red-eyed vireos and eastern wood pewees, which are a kind of flycatcher, feed and nest in or near forest canopies, or treetops, though they are hard to see among the foliage so high and against the bright sky. A key to identifying them in the canopy is to know and hear their distinctive songs.
Tanagers mostly nest 50 feet or more high in the canopies of oak trees in the forests. Females make flimsy cradles of twigs, bark strips, rootlets and grass on forks of twigs. Female tanagers are green, which allows them to blend into their treetop habitats, but their mates are red with black wings and tails. Tanagers eat sluggish insects from canopies, and forest floors at times.
Female red-eyed vireos build cups of bark strips, twigs, wasp nest paper and suspend them below forks of twigs with spider webbing about ten to fifteen feet above the ground. Vireos ingest insects from treetop foliage and that's where the males sing their short, but unending series of phrases most all day every summer day. For this they are called preacher birds.
Female eastern wood pewees create pretty nests on top of small, horizontal limbs of forest trees, nurseries that are hard to see from below. Each cradle is an open cup of bark strips, grasses and lichens attached to the branch by spider webbing about fifteen to sixty feet above the ground. Pewees catch flying insects at all levels in the woods and males sing a beautiful, whistled "pee-a wee, pee-oooo", which is particularly heart-rending at dusk.
Watch and listen for these birds in summer woodlands in the Middle Atlantic States. Many species nest there because each kind uses a different niche in various forest layers with limited interference of other types of birds.
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Differing Nesting Strategies
Last evening I saw a flurry of wing flapping on the next-door neighbors' garage roof. Looking closely, I saw the fluttering was caused by a parent mourning dove feeding its two recently-fledged young. I remembered seeing a pair of young doves early last month and that reminded me that a pair of mourning doves, like most of their clan, produce two young a month, on average. And because they start nesting here in the Middle Atlantic States in March and continue into September, a pair of mourning doves can produce six broods for a total of twelve offspring a year. But not all chicks reach maturity because of eggs falling through flimsy nests in trees, crows, raccoons, opossums and other kinds of predators eating eggs and young, and Cooper's hawk preying on adults. Still, mourning doves are abundant in North America. And so are Canada geese in the Lower 48 of the United States, even though both species are game birds, hunted by humans in autumn.
Canada geese traditionally nest in Canada, but populations of them are common across much of the Lower 48 because of stocking for hunting. Mourning doves and Canada geese are abundant game birds in the farmland of the Mid-Atlantic States where they eat grain and green shoots respectively. Both species are major parts of that human-made habitat the year around.
But the most interesting part of the life histories of these game birds is the reproductive strategies they evolved over millions of years, both of which are different from each other but, obviously, successful. Each female mourning dove lays two eggs each month, for six months, alternately in two tree nests while each female Canada goose lays one clutch of four to six eggs each year in a grassy cradle on the ground. And both parents of the two species care for their young until they are old enough to take care of themselves. Each pair of geese, by the way, get away with only a small number of goslings a year because goose parents are large and fiercely protect their progeny. The goslings, therefore, have a low mortality rate, even though they live on the ground and on bodies of water.
Young doves are born helpless and need to be fed a combination of regurgitated throat phlem and predigested seeds until they fledge their nurseries, and a short time after fledging. Young geese, however, hatch covered with fuzz, with their eyes open, and ready to feed themselves on a variety of aquatic and land vegetation within 24 hours of hatching.
The goose way of raising young is straight-forward; one clutch per year. All the goslings hatch on the same day and all grow at the same rate until independent by late summer. But the doves' way of rearing offspring is more complicated.
Mourning doves in the Middle Atlantic States start to raise chicks in March. Then the female of each pair lays two eggs in a sloppy nursery she built on a tree limb, or in another bird's cradle. When those first two chicks are half-grown, their mother lays two eggs in another nest and the parents take turns incubating the eggs and small young. The parent not incubating ingests grain and seeds and feeds the offspring. About the time the first young leave their nursery, the second pair of babies hatches and is brooded and fed by each parent in turn. And when the second brood is half-grown, their mother lays a third clutch of eggs in the first, now empty, nest. And so it goes all summer into September, resulting in about six broods a year.
Mourning doves and Canada geese have different ways of rearing young, but each way is successful, as are all the various ways that successful animals raise offspring. Nature is forever experimenting with different ways of surviving in the seemingly unending variety of niches on Earth. That is one of the many reasons why nature is always beautiful and intriguing to experience everywhere and at all times.
Canada geese traditionally nest in Canada, but populations of them are common across much of the Lower 48 because of stocking for hunting. Mourning doves and Canada geese are abundant game birds in the farmland of the Mid-Atlantic States where they eat grain and green shoots respectively. Both species are major parts of that human-made habitat the year around.
But the most interesting part of the life histories of these game birds is the reproductive strategies they evolved over millions of years, both of which are different from each other but, obviously, successful. Each female mourning dove lays two eggs each month, for six months, alternately in two tree nests while each female Canada goose lays one clutch of four to six eggs each year in a grassy cradle on the ground. And both parents of the two species care for their young until they are old enough to take care of themselves. Each pair of geese, by the way, get away with only a small number of goslings a year because goose parents are large and fiercely protect their progeny. The goslings, therefore, have a low mortality rate, even though they live on the ground and on bodies of water.
Young doves are born helpless and need to be fed a combination of regurgitated throat phlem and predigested seeds until they fledge their nurseries, and a short time after fledging. Young geese, however, hatch covered with fuzz, with their eyes open, and ready to feed themselves on a variety of aquatic and land vegetation within 24 hours of hatching.
The goose way of raising young is straight-forward; one clutch per year. All the goslings hatch on the same day and all grow at the same rate until independent by late summer. But the doves' way of rearing offspring is more complicated.
Mourning doves in the Middle Atlantic States start to raise chicks in March. Then the female of each pair lays two eggs in a sloppy nursery she built on a tree limb, or in another bird's cradle. When those first two chicks are half-grown, their mother lays two eggs in another nest and the parents take turns incubating the eggs and small young. The parent not incubating ingests grain and seeds and feeds the offspring. About the time the first young leave their nursery, the second pair of babies hatches and is brooded and fed by each parent in turn. And when the second brood is half-grown, their mother lays a third clutch of eggs in the first, now empty, nest. And so it goes all summer into September, resulting in about six broods a year.
Mourning doves and Canada geese have different ways of rearing young, but each way is successful, as are all the various ways that successful animals raise offspring. Nature is forever experimenting with different ways of surviving in the seemingly unending variety of niches on Earth. That is one of the many reasons why nature is always beautiful and intriguing to experience everywhere and at all times.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Wildlife in Sparse Shelter
I like to watch places of limited food and sparse shelter for wildlife to see how adaptable life is and what it can adjust to. Even seemingly barren human-made habitats are used by adaptable creatures. In April and May of 2016, I occasionally studied a thin, intermittent hedgerow of trees, shrubbery and tall grasses and perennial plants between fields in cropland a mile north of New Holland, Pennsylvania. That hedgerow also has a ditch that fills with water during a heavy or prolonged rain. Though offering sparse food and shelter to wildlife, a surprising number of bird and mammal species live there. These adaptable animals have a future because of their flourishing and raising young in less than ideal niches imposed by the works of people.
Three species of small, cavity-nesting birds, including a pair of eastern bluebirds, a pair of Carolina chickadees and two pairs of tree swallows, and a pair of American kestrels, a pair of screech owls and a few gray squirrels live in that slender, quarter-mile-long hedgerow between fields because of cavities in large silver maple, black walnut and weeping willow trees and three bluebird nesting boxes. The small birds hatch young in the bird houses and smaller hollows in the trees, while the kestrels, owls and squirrels rear offspring in the larger tree cavities.
Bluebirds catch insects by perching on tree twigs and fences and dropping to vegetation below. Chickadees pick up tiny invertebrates from the bark, twigs and leaves of trees, while tree swallows snare and eat flying insects in mid-air. Those different ways of getting food allow these species to live together without rivalry with each other.
The kestrel and owl families are counterparts of each other when searching for field mice and other prey among the shrubbery and across neighboring fields. The kestrels hunt by day and the owls do so at night, which reduces direct competition for the same prey animals.
I saw several American robins, a few mourning doves, a pair of blue jays, a pair of summering eastern kingbirds, a red-tailed hawk, a Cooper's hawk and a sharp-shinned hawk perched on tree limbs in that hedgerow this spring, but not all at once. The hawks were watching for prey animals to catch.
Any and all of those bird species could nest on twigs or limbs in that slim row of trees. The robins and kingbirds already do.
I also saw a variety of birds that nest in the bushes, vines and sapling trees in that hedgerow. Those thicket birds include permanent resident song sparrows, northern mockingbirds, northern cardinals, house finches, American goldfinches and summering gray catbirds. I most often hear those birds in the dense jungles of growth before I see them.
Thickets of shrubs and vines, though some of them are limited in size, provide great shelter for wildlife of many kinds, including mammals. I have seen wood chucks, striped skunks, opossums, cottontail rabbits, little brown bats and big brown bats in the hedgerow I studied. Bushes and vines give the land mammals cover and the ditch often provides them with water. Presumably the bats perch in the trees for the day in summer.
Wood chucks are home builders. They dig burrows in the soil with a few entrances so they are not trapped in their own homes. But when chucks abandon their tunnels, other mammals, including red foxes, skunks, possums and rabbits, move into some of them.
The hedgerow I studied close to home this spring was interesting. It demonstrated how adaptable some critters are. Those animals increase their populations because of their adjustments to less than ideal conditions, and we get to experience interesting wildlife close to home. Readers can look for such habitats close to home to have similar experiences.
Three species of small, cavity-nesting birds, including a pair of eastern bluebirds, a pair of Carolina chickadees and two pairs of tree swallows, and a pair of American kestrels, a pair of screech owls and a few gray squirrels live in that slender, quarter-mile-long hedgerow between fields because of cavities in large silver maple, black walnut and weeping willow trees and three bluebird nesting boxes. The small birds hatch young in the bird houses and smaller hollows in the trees, while the kestrels, owls and squirrels rear offspring in the larger tree cavities.
Bluebirds catch insects by perching on tree twigs and fences and dropping to vegetation below. Chickadees pick up tiny invertebrates from the bark, twigs and leaves of trees, while tree swallows snare and eat flying insects in mid-air. Those different ways of getting food allow these species to live together without rivalry with each other.
The kestrel and owl families are counterparts of each other when searching for field mice and other prey among the shrubbery and across neighboring fields. The kestrels hunt by day and the owls do so at night, which reduces direct competition for the same prey animals.
I saw several American robins, a few mourning doves, a pair of blue jays, a pair of summering eastern kingbirds, a red-tailed hawk, a Cooper's hawk and a sharp-shinned hawk perched on tree limbs in that hedgerow this spring, but not all at once. The hawks were watching for prey animals to catch.
Any and all of those bird species could nest on twigs or limbs in that slim row of trees. The robins and kingbirds already do.
I also saw a variety of birds that nest in the bushes, vines and sapling trees in that hedgerow. Those thicket birds include permanent resident song sparrows, northern mockingbirds, northern cardinals, house finches, American goldfinches and summering gray catbirds. I most often hear those birds in the dense jungles of growth before I see them.
Thickets of shrubs and vines, though some of them are limited in size, provide great shelter for wildlife of many kinds, including mammals. I have seen wood chucks, striped skunks, opossums, cottontail rabbits, little brown bats and big brown bats in the hedgerow I studied. Bushes and vines give the land mammals cover and the ditch often provides them with water. Presumably the bats perch in the trees for the day in summer.
Wood chucks are home builders. They dig burrows in the soil with a few entrances so they are not trapped in their own homes. But when chucks abandon their tunnels, other mammals, including red foxes, skunks, possums and rabbits, move into some of them.
The hedgerow I studied close to home this spring was interesting. It demonstrated how adaptable some critters are. Those animals increase their populations because of their adjustments to less than ideal conditions, and we get to experience interesting wildlife close to home. Readers can look for such habitats close to home to have similar experiences.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Boggy Pastures in Summer
One day late in May of 2016, I visited three boggy, short-grass cow pastures located within a few miles of each other in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. I wanted to experience the beauties and intrigues of what nature was in them, though at first glance they appeared barren of wildlife because of short grass, few trees and even fewer, or no, strips of shrubbery. But those meadows have mixed patches of cattails and skunk cabbage, plus clumps of sedges and rushes, all in low spots in the meadows. And each one of those pastures has a stream flowing through it and millions of buttercup flowers. I was impressed with their green and yellow beauties.
Cattails and skunk cabbage growing together is interesting in itself. Although they both grow only in constantly moist soil, cattails need full sunlight while skunk cabbage tolerates shade. Skunk cabbage was in those soggy bottomlands first, when they were shaded by deciduous forests. But when trees were cut away to clear the land for farming and meadows, skunk cabbage established in the damp ground adapted to the full sunlight and thrived. Meanwhile cattail seeds blew in on the wind and developed the five foot tall cattail plants, each with a decorative, brown sausage-like seed head on top of each stalk, that colonized the moist soil among the skunk cabbage plants.
Red-winged blackbirds are adapted to nesting among patches of cattails. Red-wings dominate stands of cattails with their numbers, activities and beauties. Males are striking in black feathering and scarlet shoulder patches. They stand on cattail stems, fences and roadside wires to sing "o-ka-lee" several times each day. And they chase away hawks, crows and other would-be predators.
Female red-wings are dark-brown, streaked with beige, which camouflages and protects them from predators. Each female builds a nursery of grasses among a few stalks of cattails a couple of feet above the ground or water level of a wetland, including in boggy pastures.
Grassy pastures were created along waterways to provide food and water for cattle, horses and other farm animals. When I visited those three meadows toward the end of May, the stream in each one was partly choked with water cress, a plant originally from Europe. I saw at least one brood of mallard ducklings and their mom in each waterway and muskrat droppings on rocks in the waterways and on the muddy shorelines. Depositing droppings in strategic places is how muskrats mark their territories.
I saw a killdeer plover, which is a kind of inland shorebird, along the edge of one stream. Probably its mate was setting on a clutch of four eggs somewhere nearby in the pasture. A pair of spotted sandpipers, another kind of inland shorebird, should have been along each waterway in the cow pastures, but I didn't see any while I was at each one. But with the grass and other vegetation, these small, camouflaged birds are hard to see at best, which is good for them. Both these kinds of shorebirds feed on invertebrates they find in water, mud and short vegetation.
Several barn swallows and a few tree swallows dashed over each set of meadows and waterways in their pursuit of flying insects to eat. And there are purple martins, another kind of swallow, at one meadow because of a nearby, farmyard colony of them. These three species of swallows, and others, are always entertaining when in flight.
Barn swallows build mud pellet nests on support beams in barns while martins hatch young in high apartment bird houses on farmyard lawns. Tree swallows rear offspring in tree cavities and bird boxes erected for them. With few trees in cropland, tree swallows almost wholly depend on bird boxes to raise chicks in.
A pair of eastern kingbirds was at each of the three pastures I visited. They perch on tree twigs and fences to watch for passing flying insects. When a victim comes near, each kingbird zips out from its perch, grabs the bug in its beak and flies back to its perch to eat its prey. Each pair of kingbirds builds a nursery in a fork of twigs in a lone tree in a meadow.
There were a few other kinds of critters at each of these three meadows. Green darners, which are a kind of dragonfly, zoomed over all three sets of waterways and pastures after flying insects to eat, and mates. Those big dragonflies are entertaining to watch and are not harmful to people. In fact, they eat a lot of mosquitoes and other pesky insects.
I heard several male green frogs croaking and belching from one shallow, sluggish stream in one pasture. Their guttural vocalizations, as with all types of frogs and toads, are unchanged since the long ago age of amphibians. They are a blast from the distant past when amphibians dominated. And like all other frogs and toads, green frogs consume a variety of invertebrates.
And I saw a belted kingfisher and a couple of snapping turtles in the largest stream in one of the three meadows. The kingfisher dived from the air into the stream to catch a minnow. And I could see the snappers moving about with only the tops of their shells and their noses and eyes visible above the water line. They were looking for fish, ducklings and anything else to eat.
Those plants and animals I mentioned will continue living along those streams in cow pastures through most of the summer. They may not always be noticeable at first, but with time and perseverance, some of them should be spotted by anyone who looks for them. And so it is in habitats near readers' homes.
Cattails and skunk cabbage growing together is interesting in itself. Although they both grow only in constantly moist soil, cattails need full sunlight while skunk cabbage tolerates shade. Skunk cabbage was in those soggy bottomlands first, when they were shaded by deciduous forests. But when trees were cut away to clear the land for farming and meadows, skunk cabbage established in the damp ground adapted to the full sunlight and thrived. Meanwhile cattail seeds blew in on the wind and developed the five foot tall cattail plants, each with a decorative, brown sausage-like seed head on top of each stalk, that colonized the moist soil among the skunk cabbage plants.
Red-winged blackbirds are adapted to nesting among patches of cattails. Red-wings dominate stands of cattails with their numbers, activities and beauties. Males are striking in black feathering and scarlet shoulder patches. They stand on cattail stems, fences and roadside wires to sing "o-ka-lee" several times each day. And they chase away hawks, crows and other would-be predators.
Female red-wings are dark-brown, streaked with beige, which camouflages and protects them from predators. Each female builds a nursery of grasses among a few stalks of cattails a couple of feet above the ground or water level of a wetland, including in boggy pastures.
Grassy pastures were created along waterways to provide food and water for cattle, horses and other farm animals. When I visited those three meadows toward the end of May, the stream in each one was partly choked with water cress, a plant originally from Europe. I saw at least one brood of mallard ducklings and their mom in each waterway and muskrat droppings on rocks in the waterways and on the muddy shorelines. Depositing droppings in strategic places is how muskrats mark their territories.
I saw a killdeer plover, which is a kind of inland shorebird, along the edge of one stream. Probably its mate was setting on a clutch of four eggs somewhere nearby in the pasture. A pair of spotted sandpipers, another kind of inland shorebird, should have been along each waterway in the cow pastures, but I didn't see any while I was at each one. But with the grass and other vegetation, these small, camouflaged birds are hard to see at best, which is good for them. Both these kinds of shorebirds feed on invertebrates they find in water, mud and short vegetation.
Several barn swallows and a few tree swallows dashed over each set of meadows and waterways in their pursuit of flying insects to eat. And there are purple martins, another kind of swallow, at one meadow because of a nearby, farmyard colony of them. These three species of swallows, and others, are always entertaining when in flight.
Barn swallows build mud pellet nests on support beams in barns while martins hatch young in high apartment bird houses on farmyard lawns. Tree swallows rear offspring in tree cavities and bird boxes erected for them. With few trees in cropland, tree swallows almost wholly depend on bird boxes to raise chicks in.
A pair of eastern kingbirds was at each of the three pastures I visited. They perch on tree twigs and fences to watch for passing flying insects. When a victim comes near, each kingbird zips out from its perch, grabs the bug in its beak and flies back to its perch to eat its prey. Each pair of kingbirds builds a nursery in a fork of twigs in a lone tree in a meadow.
There were a few other kinds of critters at each of these three meadows. Green darners, which are a kind of dragonfly, zoomed over all three sets of waterways and pastures after flying insects to eat, and mates. Those big dragonflies are entertaining to watch and are not harmful to people. In fact, they eat a lot of mosquitoes and other pesky insects.
I heard several male green frogs croaking and belching from one shallow, sluggish stream in one pasture. Their guttural vocalizations, as with all types of frogs and toads, are unchanged since the long ago age of amphibians. They are a blast from the distant past when amphibians dominated. And like all other frogs and toads, green frogs consume a variety of invertebrates.
And I saw a belted kingfisher and a couple of snapping turtles in the largest stream in one of the three meadows. The kingfisher dived from the air into the stream to catch a minnow. And I could see the snappers moving about with only the tops of their shells and their noses and eyes visible above the water line. They were looking for fish, ducklings and anything else to eat.
Those plants and animals I mentioned will continue living along those streams in cow pastures through most of the summer. They may not always be noticeable at first, but with time and perseverance, some of them should be spotted by anyone who looks for them. And so it is in habitats near readers' homes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)