At least once every winter, I enjoy seeing the many handsome, adult great black-backed gulls along the Susquehanna River in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. These magnificent gulls are the largest of their kin in North America, about the size of a Canada goose. Adult great black-backs seem dazzlingly white, including their under parts, heads and tails, but have black upper wings and backs. And when mature black backs soar on high, they sometimes remind me at first of adult bald eagles, but then I see the gulls' white bellies.
Great black-backed gulls are stately, whether perched on river-side boulders, docks or pilings; or soaring and wheeling across the sky. And I often see them sitting during winter days on glare shields above street lights on the Route 462 bridge crossing the Susquehanna in Lancaster County. Always, there is one black-back per shield.
However, I've only seen a few adult glaucous gulls in my lifetime. They have white heads, tails and bellies like the black-backs. But the beautiful, mature glaucous gulls are pale-gray on the tops of their wings and on their backs, which makes them look a bit ghostly, especially in the midst of snow. Adult glaucous gulls and mature great black-backed gulls have much in common. At up to 24 inches in length, they are the largest gulls in North America. They are both hawk-like and predatory, as well as robbers, fishers, and scavengers of almost anything edible. Both species have big, powerful beaks that help them procure their food, including killing and eating a variety of birds and their eggs and young. Both species winter in the Mid-Atlantic States, both along the seacoast and inland, the black-backs fairly commonly and the glaucous uncommonly in those states. Furthermore, a few of each kind winter, at times, around inland, human-made impoundments where they rest overnight, and in landfills where they look for edible scraps.
Pairs of glaucous gulls nest circumpolar in the northern hemisphere. Each pair hatches two or three babies per brood on cliff ledges near nesting colonies of birds on islands, on the coasts of the Arctic Ocean, the shores of the Atlantic Ocean south to Newfoundland. and down to James Bay, which is a southern arm of Hudson Bay. While raising young, pairs of glaucous gulls kill ocean and tundra birds, including dovekies, murres, gulls, ducks and plovers, and the eggs and young of those birds. They also catch fish and scavenge dead animals.
The strikingly handsome adult glaucous gulls, and their immatures, in North America winter along the shores of the Arctic Ocean, the coast of the northern Atlantic Ocean south to Long Island, and sometimes farther south, and along the Great Lakes. This lovely gull utters hoarse croaks for the most part.
The majestic great black-backed adults, in North America, nest on the sea coasts of the North Atlantic and Arctic Oceans. They feed the eggs, young and adults of ducks, terns, smaller gulls, cormorants and other kinds of birds to their two to three young per brood, as well as consume those foods themselves.
In North America, this magnificent species winters along the Atlantic Shoreline south to North Carolina, and the shores of rivers and the Great Lakes. In winter they feed on live fish they catch, fish they scavenge, or rob from other kinds of fish-catching birds, including gulls and diving ducks, and anything else edible. Black-backs mostly utter deep, guttural croaks that can be heard for a bit of a distance.
Watch for these two kinds of stately gulls in the Middle Atlantic States in winter. They are big, handsome species that stir some excitement by the way they get food from and around larger bodies of water.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Winter Bottomland Beauties
One recent winter day, I drove by an overgrown meadow dominated by many red-twig dogwood shrubs and river birch trees located less than a mile south of New Holland, Pennsylvania. Both those kinds of woody vegetation need lots of sunlight and water to flourish, which they get in that abandoned pasture. Red-twigs and river birches are pretty in themselves, but together they are even more attractive in winter. And the meadow they grow in is bisected by a clear stream and carpeted by pale-beige reed canary-grass. The striking red-twigs and birches got me to thinking about other kinds of shrubs and trees that beautify moist bottomlands here in southeastern Pennsylvania.
Several species of deciduous trees and shrubs that flourish in local bottomlands have certain beauties in winter that make those habitats more enjoyable to experience. Some of these woody plants are in wooded swamps, others are along waterways in woods, and still others reside in overgrown cow pastures and sunny marshes. All these species are native to America. And all feed and/or house wildlife.
Red-twig dogwoods and red-osier dogwoods are striking shrubs of sunny marshes and wet meadows in winter. There the many red, supple twigs of each species brightens the open, beige wetlands they grow in, like long, thin tongues of flame. And there cottontail rabbits, white-tailed deer and field mice eat the lovely, tender stems of these two kinds of dogwoods. Some of these shrubs are planted on lawns because of their lovely, red twigs.
Winterberry shrubs are a deciduous holly, which means they lose their foliage in autumn and grow new leaves the next spring. They are native to wooded swamps in this area, but not commonly. In fall and through much of the following winter they bear many scarlet and attractive berries. They are fairly commonly planted on lawns because of those red berries that help brighten many a mitigated landscape in winter. The berries of winterberry shrubs are eaten by rodents and a variety of wintering, berry-eating birds, including northern mockingbirds and American robins.
Sycamore trees and river birch trees grow along waterways and each has interesting, attractive bark. The roots of these trees, and others, help hold down the soil against erosion when the waterways flood.
The gray bark of sycamores peels off in thin, little patches, as the trees grow, exposing the lighter, younger bark underneath. The result is trunks and branches of sycamores have mottled appearances of lighter and darker bark. Large sycamores have hollows that house a variety of wildlife species, including raccoons, barred owls and chickadees, to name a few.
River birches have outer bark that curls away from the inner bark in many attractive, paper-thin rolls that, to me, resemble tiny scrolls on their trunks and limbs. Those tightly-wrapped scrolls reveal the lovely, pale-orange bark growing beneath the curled bark. Sparrows and finches of various kinds each consume the tiny seeds these beautiful birches produce.
Ash-leafed maple trees develop in riparian woods along waterways. They, too, help hold down the soil of bottomlands during floods. Their paired, winged seeds that hang on their twigs through winter are their special winter beauty. But when those seeds do fall from their twig moorings, they spin down and away in the wind from the parent trees like blades of helicopters, which disperses their species far and wide. Meanwhile, many of those seeds are eaten by gray squirrels, northern cardinals and other kinds of wildlife.
Pin oak and white oak trees of moist, wooded bottomlands retain many of their dried, brown leaves through winter, adding more color and beauty to gray woods in winter. Sleet rattles through those dead, dried leaves and snow piles on them, adding to their beauty. Deer, a few kinds of squirrels, white-footed mice, blue jays, wild turkeys and other kinds of critters eat the acorns of these oaks through winter, again adding to their beauties.
All these pretty, bottomland trees and shrubs are waiting out there for you to admire them during winter. And many of those plants' virtues are easily visible from country roads and/or on lawns. One has only to get out for a walk or drive to see some of their lovely, striking adornments.
Several species of deciduous trees and shrubs that flourish in local bottomlands have certain beauties in winter that make those habitats more enjoyable to experience. Some of these woody plants are in wooded swamps, others are along waterways in woods, and still others reside in overgrown cow pastures and sunny marshes. All these species are native to America. And all feed and/or house wildlife.
Red-twig dogwoods and red-osier dogwoods are striking shrubs of sunny marshes and wet meadows in winter. There the many red, supple twigs of each species brightens the open, beige wetlands they grow in, like long, thin tongues of flame. And there cottontail rabbits, white-tailed deer and field mice eat the lovely, tender stems of these two kinds of dogwoods. Some of these shrubs are planted on lawns because of their lovely, red twigs.
Winterberry shrubs are a deciduous holly, which means they lose their foliage in autumn and grow new leaves the next spring. They are native to wooded swamps in this area, but not commonly. In fall and through much of the following winter they bear many scarlet and attractive berries. They are fairly commonly planted on lawns because of those red berries that help brighten many a mitigated landscape in winter. The berries of winterberry shrubs are eaten by rodents and a variety of wintering, berry-eating birds, including northern mockingbirds and American robins.
Sycamore trees and river birch trees grow along waterways and each has interesting, attractive bark. The roots of these trees, and others, help hold down the soil against erosion when the waterways flood.
The gray bark of sycamores peels off in thin, little patches, as the trees grow, exposing the lighter, younger bark underneath. The result is trunks and branches of sycamores have mottled appearances of lighter and darker bark. Large sycamores have hollows that house a variety of wildlife species, including raccoons, barred owls and chickadees, to name a few.
River birches have outer bark that curls away from the inner bark in many attractive, paper-thin rolls that, to me, resemble tiny scrolls on their trunks and limbs. Those tightly-wrapped scrolls reveal the lovely, pale-orange bark growing beneath the curled bark. Sparrows and finches of various kinds each consume the tiny seeds these beautiful birches produce.
Ash-leafed maple trees develop in riparian woods along waterways. They, too, help hold down the soil of bottomlands during floods. Their paired, winged seeds that hang on their twigs through winter are their special winter beauty. But when those seeds do fall from their twig moorings, they spin down and away in the wind from the parent trees like blades of helicopters, which disperses their species far and wide. Meanwhile, many of those seeds are eaten by gray squirrels, northern cardinals and other kinds of wildlife.
Pin oak and white oak trees of moist, wooded bottomlands retain many of their dried, brown leaves through winter, adding more color and beauty to gray woods in winter. Sleet rattles through those dead, dried leaves and snow piles on them, adding to their beauty. Deer, a few kinds of squirrels, white-footed mice, blue jays, wild turkeys and other kinds of critters eat the acorns of these oaks through winter, again adding to their beauties.
All these pretty, bottomland trees and shrubs are waiting out there for you to admire them during winter. And many of those plants' virtues are easily visible from country roads and/or on lawns. One has only to get out for a walk or drive to see some of their lovely, striking adornments.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Wintering Salt Marsh Birds
Harbors and salt marshes between barrier islands and the mainland of southern New Jersey, as elsewhere, are alive with several kinds of wintering birds. Those barrier islands protect the seacoast salt marshes from the constantly pounding surf of the Atlantic Ocean, giving them and the creatures that live in them stability and peace. But tidal channels penetrate the marshes like the arms of an octopus. And harbors, channels and marshes are affected by tides twice daily, every day of the year, which has a great influence on the lives of creatures in those habitats.
Highly visible icons of the winter seacoast, ring-billed, herring and great black-backed gulls commonly winter on harbors, channels, salt marshes, beaches and rock jetties. There they also catch live fish, mollusks, crustaceans and other sea creatures, as well as scavenge anything edible.
Bay ducks, which seem to have a common ancestry, including lesser and great scaups, red-heads and canvasbacks, winter on the harbors and channels behind barrier islands. There these ducks form large rafts of themselves and dive under water to consume aquatic vegetation mostly, and small mollusks and crustaceans to a lesser extent. Red-heads and cans do have reddish heads.
Bufflehead ducks also live in rafts on the same waters as bay ducks. But buffleheads dive under water to mostly bring small crustaceans, snails and other mollusks to the surface to swallow. In this way, competition for food is lessened between buffleheads and the various bay ducks.
White-winged and surf scoter ducks also winter on the harbors. There each species rafts, and dives under water after blue mussels, clams, crabs and other sea bottom critters.
Double-crested and great cormorants, common and red-throated loons, horned and red-necked grebes and red-breasted merganser ducks winter on seacoast harbors and channels and dive under water after small fish. Although these species are of different families of birds, they are all built like ducks because of their watery habitat that shaped them into being what they are.
Black ducks, Atlantic brant, which is a small goose, and mute swans winter in coastal salt marshes in New Jersey. All of these related species "tip-up" to pull vegetation from the bottoms of shallow waters with their sturdy beaks. And they all fly in groups of their own making to fields where they graze on short grass and winter rye shoots, and on waste corn kernels.
Wintering northern harriers, which is a type of hawk, and short-eared owls flap and sail buoyantly over salt marshes in their search for rice rats and other small rodents to catch and eat. Harriers pump low and slowly into the wind while watching and listening for prey. Short-ears hunt rodents mostly late in the afternoon, at dusk and into the night. Short-ears fly like giant moths.
Several kinds of wintering birds leap into action as the tide goes out, leaving large mud flats on the edges of the salt marshes. Clapper rails, and willits, which are a kind of large sandpiper, come out of the tall grasses to find invertebrates of various kinds in the mud. Oystercatchers specialize in prying open mollusk shells they find in the mud with their large, heavy beaks. Savannah sparrows glean wind-blown seeds from the mud. And flocks of dunlin, which is a sandpiper species, American pipits, horned larks and, sometimes, snow buntings converge on the mud flats to feed on a variety of small invertebrates, and seeds. All these bird species feed until the tide returns and covers the mud. Then the birds retreat to the salt marshes to rest and preen their feathers. A merlin or two, which are a kind of hawk, buzz the flats in hopes of catching small birds that are too busy feeding to be aware of their presence.
Though seemingly uninhabited at times, winter salt marshes are bursting with animal life, particularly birds. But sometimes they must be looked for. However, with a bit of knowledge as to when and where to look for them, most anybody can have success in experiencing wintering birds in salt marshes, from a discreet distance so as to not disturb them.
Highly visible icons of the winter seacoast, ring-billed, herring and great black-backed gulls commonly winter on harbors, channels, salt marshes, beaches and rock jetties. There they also catch live fish, mollusks, crustaceans and other sea creatures, as well as scavenge anything edible.
Bay ducks, which seem to have a common ancestry, including lesser and great scaups, red-heads and canvasbacks, winter on the harbors and channels behind barrier islands. There these ducks form large rafts of themselves and dive under water to consume aquatic vegetation mostly, and small mollusks and crustaceans to a lesser extent. Red-heads and cans do have reddish heads.
Bufflehead ducks also live in rafts on the same waters as bay ducks. But buffleheads dive under water to mostly bring small crustaceans, snails and other mollusks to the surface to swallow. In this way, competition for food is lessened between buffleheads and the various bay ducks.
White-winged and surf scoter ducks also winter on the harbors. There each species rafts, and dives under water after blue mussels, clams, crabs and other sea bottom critters.
Double-crested and great cormorants, common and red-throated loons, horned and red-necked grebes and red-breasted merganser ducks winter on seacoast harbors and channels and dive under water after small fish. Although these species are of different families of birds, they are all built like ducks because of their watery habitat that shaped them into being what they are.
Black ducks, Atlantic brant, which is a small goose, and mute swans winter in coastal salt marshes in New Jersey. All of these related species "tip-up" to pull vegetation from the bottoms of shallow waters with their sturdy beaks. And they all fly in groups of their own making to fields where they graze on short grass and winter rye shoots, and on waste corn kernels.
Wintering northern harriers, which is a type of hawk, and short-eared owls flap and sail buoyantly over salt marshes in their search for rice rats and other small rodents to catch and eat. Harriers pump low and slowly into the wind while watching and listening for prey. Short-ears hunt rodents mostly late in the afternoon, at dusk and into the night. Short-ears fly like giant moths.
Several kinds of wintering birds leap into action as the tide goes out, leaving large mud flats on the edges of the salt marshes. Clapper rails, and willits, which are a kind of large sandpiper, come out of the tall grasses to find invertebrates of various kinds in the mud. Oystercatchers specialize in prying open mollusk shells they find in the mud with their large, heavy beaks. Savannah sparrows glean wind-blown seeds from the mud. And flocks of dunlin, which is a sandpiper species, American pipits, horned larks and, sometimes, snow buntings converge on the mud flats to feed on a variety of small invertebrates, and seeds. All these bird species feed until the tide returns and covers the mud. Then the birds retreat to the salt marshes to rest and preen their feathers. A merlin or two, which are a kind of hawk, buzz the flats in hopes of catching small birds that are too busy feeding to be aware of their presence.
Though seemingly uninhabited at times, winter salt marshes are bursting with animal life, particularly birds. But sometimes they must be looked for. However, with a bit of knowledge as to when and where to look for them, most anybody can have success in experiencing wintering birds in salt marshes, from a discreet distance so as to not disturb them.
Friday, January 20, 2017
Winter Wrens and Creepers
A 40-yard, ragged row of bare, young silver maple trees stood along a sluggish stream in a cow pasture. They were silhouetted against gray, orange-spotted clouds and reflected in the quiet waterway, making a beautiful portrait of trees, sky and water in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland.
Those young maple trees made a thin peninsula jutting into the meadow from a nearby patch of woods. Sometimes those maples harbor woodland birds and birds of thickets and overgrown pastures. I've seen American robins, eastern bluebirds and Baltimore orioles among those trees at different seasons. Thicket birds, including permanent resident song sparrows and northern cardinals and summering gray catbirds have been among them. And such permanent resident, woodland birds as blue jays, Carolina chickadees, red-bellied woodpeckers and summering wood thrushes are sometimes among those maples as well. And because of a small bridge spanning a country road between the woods and the meadow, a pair of eastern phoebes nests on a support beam under the bridge in summer.
And on January 18, 2017, I was excited to see a winter wren and a brown creeper, both small, woodland birds, along the stream and among the young maples respectively, and nearly at the same time. Both species are woodland nesters, but farther north and west of Lancaster County. They are here only in winter. And they are solitary birds when spotted in winter woods, or another habitat.
Winter wrens are three and one quarter inches long, and have beautiful, warm-brown feathering with dark barring that blends them into their surroundings of woodland floors. They also have comically stubby, upright tails that help identify them. They raise young in bottomland forests around the Great Lakes, in New England and down the Appalachian Mountains to North Carolina and Tennessee.
Winter wrens mostly creep along the shores of streams in woods like feathered mice or gnomes, all day, every day, during winter, including here in Lancaster County. There they poke into stream bank crannies, behind tree roots jutting out from those banks, and among fallen leaves and logs on woodland floors to seize and ingest still active, or dormant, invertebrates. And winter wrens spend winter nights snug in sheltering crannies behind tree roots in stream banks and under fallen logs.
Brown creepers nest along the Appalachians south to North Carolina and Tennessee, across the mixed forests of Canada to the pacific Coast, and down the Rocky Mountains to Mexico. Creepers are four and three-quarters inches long, brown on top, streaked with white dots, and white below. The mottled brown and white feathering on top camouflages these birds against tree bark. Creepers have curved beaks they poke into bark crevices after invertebrates and stiff points on their tail feathers that prop them upright on tree trunks. Like all life forms, creepers are well built for what they do to get food.
Brown creepers winter in woods, hedgerows of trees, and older suburban areas with their many maturing trees. Each bird hitches up tree trunks to investigate cracks in bark for invertebrates and their eggs. Near the top of every tree, the creeper flutters down to the base of another tree, then spirals up it as well. All day, every day of its life, the creeper flutters to the bases of trees and spirals up them, one at a time, as it searches for food along the way. And every day of its life, each creeper spends nights in a cozy tree cavity or behind a sheltering strip of loose bark on a tree.
Winter wrens and brown creepers are small, brown birds that hunt invertebrates in woods during winter, but in different ways and in different niches, eliminating competition for food between them. And because of that lack of rivalry for food, these two species can live in the same woods at the same time. Because of their blending into their surroundings for safety, they are hard for us to spot. But it is a bit exciting when they are seen.
Those young maple trees made a thin peninsula jutting into the meadow from a nearby patch of woods. Sometimes those maples harbor woodland birds and birds of thickets and overgrown pastures. I've seen American robins, eastern bluebirds and Baltimore orioles among those trees at different seasons. Thicket birds, including permanent resident song sparrows and northern cardinals and summering gray catbirds have been among them. And such permanent resident, woodland birds as blue jays, Carolina chickadees, red-bellied woodpeckers and summering wood thrushes are sometimes among those maples as well. And because of a small bridge spanning a country road between the woods and the meadow, a pair of eastern phoebes nests on a support beam under the bridge in summer.
And on January 18, 2017, I was excited to see a winter wren and a brown creeper, both small, woodland birds, along the stream and among the young maples respectively, and nearly at the same time. Both species are woodland nesters, but farther north and west of Lancaster County. They are here only in winter. And they are solitary birds when spotted in winter woods, or another habitat.
Winter wrens are three and one quarter inches long, and have beautiful, warm-brown feathering with dark barring that blends them into their surroundings of woodland floors. They also have comically stubby, upright tails that help identify them. They raise young in bottomland forests around the Great Lakes, in New England and down the Appalachian Mountains to North Carolina and Tennessee.
Winter wrens mostly creep along the shores of streams in woods like feathered mice or gnomes, all day, every day, during winter, including here in Lancaster County. There they poke into stream bank crannies, behind tree roots jutting out from those banks, and among fallen leaves and logs on woodland floors to seize and ingest still active, or dormant, invertebrates. And winter wrens spend winter nights snug in sheltering crannies behind tree roots in stream banks and under fallen logs.
Brown creepers nest along the Appalachians south to North Carolina and Tennessee, across the mixed forests of Canada to the pacific Coast, and down the Rocky Mountains to Mexico. Creepers are four and three-quarters inches long, brown on top, streaked with white dots, and white below. The mottled brown and white feathering on top camouflages these birds against tree bark. Creepers have curved beaks they poke into bark crevices after invertebrates and stiff points on their tail feathers that prop them upright on tree trunks. Like all life forms, creepers are well built for what they do to get food.
Brown creepers winter in woods, hedgerows of trees, and older suburban areas with their many maturing trees. Each bird hitches up tree trunks to investigate cracks in bark for invertebrates and their eggs. Near the top of every tree, the creeper flutters down to the base of another tree, then spirals up it as well. All day, every day of its life, the creeper flutters to the bases of trees and spirals up them, one at a time, as it searches for food along the way. And every day of its life, each creeper spends nights in a cozy tree cavity or behind a sheltering strip of loose bark on a tree.
Winter wrens and brown creepers are small, brown birds that hunt invertebrates in woods during winter, but in different ways and in different niches, eliminating competition for food between them. And because of that lack of rivalry for food, these two species can live in the same woods at the same time. Because of their blending into their surroundings for safety, they are hard for us to spot. But it is a bit exciting when they are seen.
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Everyday Hawks
Big, stately red-tailed hawks and Cooper's hawks are adaptable, common bits of wildness in farmland and suburban areas here in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere across much of North America. These striking, permanent resident raptors are spotted in those human-made habitats most every day of the year in this area, when one watches for them. Red-tails perch mostly in lone trees in fields and on roadside poles to watch for mice and other rodents in the fields. And they soar, with little flapping, above those same fields to spot prey. Cooper's hawks dash with lots of flapping and gliding through older suburbs with their large trees in their search for birds to eat. Ingesting different prey in diverse habitats lessens competition between these hawks for food, though these hawks overlap each other.
These magnificent hawks became distinct species because their habitats molded them. Red-tails soar a lot on broad wings because of the space above trees and fields that allow them to do so. But Cooper's hawks, originally being birds of forests, developed short, rounded wings for powerful flight and long tails for quick steering at great speed among the trees of a woodland.
Red-tails and Cooper's regularly winter in this area, the former species mostly in farmland and the latter in older suburbs with their tall trees, though these hawk species do overlap each other a bit. And both these raptors winter in my neighborhood.
Little, feathered and furred residents of our lawn are understandably fearful when one of those big birds of prey come into our yard. Much of each day through the year, up to six gray squirrels come to our bird feeders to get food, making themselves vulnerable to attack from red-tails. Occasionally I see a red-tail perched in a tree in our yard at anytime of year, just waiting and watching for a chance to grab an unwary squirrel and fly off with it to consume. Squirrels beware!!!
Once I heard and saw a red-tail scrambling after a fleeing gray squirrel among the trunk and limbs of one tall Norway spruce tree in our back yard. The squirrel got away that time and all his relatives in the neighborhood sounded a "barking" alarm. But another gray squirrel wasn't so lucky because it was caught on the lawn by an alert red-tailed hawk.
Cooper's hawks mostly catch and ingest the many mourning doves and house sparrows that come to our feeders the year around. The birds could be feeding peacefully on grain, then, suddenly, are gone in an instant. Then you see the Coop flashing through the yard and into bushes where the sparrows hide. After much quick scrambling, the Cooper's might exit the shrubbery with a house sparrow or, maybe, one in each foot.
The doves try to use speed in getting away from the Coop, but once in a while a dove hits one of our windows in its panic and drops dead to the ground. The Coop perches in a tree and leisurely dines on its victims, while a cascade of feathers floats gently to the ground.
Their breeding season starting in January, red-tails hatch young mostly in tall trees in fields and along hedgerows between fields. Cooper's hawks rear offspring in high, coniferous trees in older suburbs. Both these raptor species have become accustomed to human activities and noise and, therefore, are successful species among them. And their raising youngsters in different habitats reduces rivalry between these feathered predators for nesting space and food. Both types of raptors make large nurseries of sticks and twigs, lined with grasses, or usurp stick nests made by crows.
Protected by law, the adaptable and common red-tailed hawks and Cooper's hawks are making good livings in cropland and suburbs respectively. And they are hatching young in those human-made habitats. Making do with what is available is a key to success, and these two kinds of raptors are highly successful.
These magnificent hawks became distinct species because their habitats molded them. Red-tails soar a lot on broad wings because of the space above trees and fields that allow them to do so. But Cooper's hawks, originally being birds of forests, developed short, rounded wings for powerful flight and long tails for quick steering at great speed among the trees of a woodland.
Red-tails and Cooper's regularly winter in this area, the former species mostly in farmland and the latter in older suburbs with their tall trees, though these hawk species do overlap each other a bit. And both these raptors winter in my neighborhood.
Little, feathered and furred residents of our lawn are understandably fearful when one of those big birds of prey come into our yard. Much of each day through the year, up to six gray squirrels come to our bird feeders to get food, making themselves vulnerable to attack from red-tails. Occasionally I see a red-tail perched in a tree in our yard at anytime of year, just waiting and watching for a chance to grab an unwary squirrel and fly off with it to consume. Squirrels beware!!!
Once I heard and saw a red-tail scrambling after a fleeing gray squirrel among the trunk and limbs of one tall Norway spruce tree in our back yard. The squirrel got away that time and all his relatives in the neighborhood sounded a "barking" alarm. But another gray squirrel wasn't so lucky because it was caught on the lawn by an alert red-tailed hawk.
Cooper's hawks mostly catch and ingest the many mourning doves and house sparrows that come to our feeders the year around. The birds could be feeding peacefully on grain, then, suddenly, are gone in an instant. Then you see the Coop flashing through the yard and into bushes where the sparrows hide. After much quick scrambling, the Cooper's might exit the shrubbery with a house sparrow or, maybe, one in each foot.
The doves try to use speed in getting away from the Coop, but once in a while a dove hits one of our windows in its panic and drops dead to the ground. The Coop perches in a tree and leisurely dines on its victims, while a cascade of feathers floats gently to the ground.
Their breeding season starting in January, red-tails hatch young mostly in tall trees in fields and along hedgerows between fields. Cooper's hawks rear offspring in high, coniferous trees in older suburbs. Both these raptor species have become accustomed to human activities and noise and, therefore, are successful species among them. And their raising youngsters in different habitats reduces rivalry between these feathered predators for nesting space and food. Both types of raptors make large nurseries of sticks and twigs, lined with grasses, or usurp stick nests made by crows.
Protected by law, the adaptable and common red-tailed hawks and Cooper's hawks are making good livings in cropland and suburbs respectively. And they are hatching young in those human-made habitats. Making do with what is available is a key to success, and these two kinds of raptors are highly successful.
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Thieving Ducks
Every winter over the years in southeastern Pennsylvania and northeastern Maryland, I have regularly been seeing little groups of gadwall ducks and American wigeon ducks, often together and sometimes mixed with mallard ducks on sluggish creeks and ponds. Gadwalls and wigeons form only small groups in this area in winter because the northeast coast of the United States is on the fringe of both their wintering grounds.
Gadwalls and wigeons have much in common, including being abundant, medium-sized ducks, nesting on the ground mostly around prairie ponds, grassy wetlands and marshes in western and northwestern North America, for the most part, and wintering in Mexico, the southern United States and up the Atlantic Coast to New England.
Gadwalls and wigeons are both almost wholly vegetarians. Like mallards, they "tip-up" in shallow water to use their shovel-like beaks to pull up aquatic vegetation from the bottoms of impoundments and sluggish creeks. Those kinds of ducks are called dabblers. And wintering gadwalls and wigeon feed on grain and the green shoots of grass and winter rye on land, like mallards, black ducks, Canada geese, snow geese and tundra swans do.
Adult gadwall drakes are elegant in a quiet way. Their body feathering is mostly gray, but they have brown heads and black rears. Female gadwalls resemble mallard hens, but are more petite. And both genders have a white patch of feathers on each wing.
Gadwalls nest as a single species in northern Eurasia and North America. Perhaps they have spread around the northern hemisphere in relatively recent years, which didn't give them enough time to become different species because of geographic isolation.
Drake American wigeons are handsome with pinkish-brown body plumage, black rears, and an iridescent green patch through each eye and down the back of the neck. Male wigeons also have white crowns and foreheads, and a large white patch on each wing that is mostly visible when they fly. Hens also have those white wing patches.
American wigeons only live in North America. But they have a counterpart species that dwells solely in Eurasia. Maybe these two species were once one, but over time, and isolation from each other, they developed into two kinds of ducks.
One last interesting and entertaining characteristic wintering gadwalls and American wigeons have in common is their habit of congregating among American coots and diving ducks floating on the surface of water. Coots and diving ducks dive under water to the bottoms of slow waterways and impoundments to dredge up aquatic plants. These diving water birds must swim to the surface to swallow that vegetation, but some of them are robbed by waiting gadwalls and wigeons that see them surfacing and quickly take some of that food right from the coots' and divers' bills, obliging them to work harder to make a living. But it is entertaining to see the thieving gadwalls and wigeons snatch food from the coots and diving ducks.
Gadwalls and American wigeons are adaptable, attractive and common kinds of ducks in North America. They share several habits, including and most notably, their trait of stealing food from the bills of other water birds as soon as they surface from under water. Most species of life on Earth are resilient, which allows them to live indefinitely on this planet of constant changes and new opportunities.
Gadwalls and wigeons have much in common, including being abundant, medium-sized ducks, nesting on the ground mostly around prairie ponds, grassy wetlands and marshes in western and northwestern North America, for the most part, and wintering in Mexico, the southern United States and up the Atlantic Coast to New England.
Gadwalls and wigeons are both almost wholly vegetarians. Like mallards, they "tip-up" in shallow water to use their shovel-like beaks to pull up aquatic vegetation from the bottoms of impoundments and sluggish creeks. Those kinds of ducks are called dabblers. And wintering gadwalls and wigeon feed on grain and the green shoots of grass and winter rye on land, like mallards, black ducks, Canada geese, snow geese and tundra swans do.
Adult gadwall drakes are elegant in a quiet way. Their body feathering is mostly gray, but they have brown heads and black rears. Female gadwalls resemble mallard hens, but are more petite. And both genders have a white patch of feathers on each wing.
Gadwalls nest as a single species in northern Eurasia and North America. Perhaps they have spread around the northern hemisphere in relatively recent years, which didn't give them enough time to become different species because of geographic isolation.
Drake American wigeons are handsome with pinkish-brown body plumage, black rears, and an iridescent green patch through each eye and down the back of the neck. Male wigeons also have white crowns and foreheads, and a large white patch on each wing that is mostly visible when they fly. Hens also have those white wing patches.
American wigeons only live in North America. But they have a counterpart species that dwells solely in Eurasia. Maybe these two species were once one, but over time, and isolation from each other, they developed into two kinds of ducks.
One last interesting and entertaining characteristic wintering gadwalls and American wigeons have in common is their habit of congregating among American coots and diving ducks floating on the surface of water. Coots and diving ducks dive under water to the bottoms of slow waterways and impoundments to dredge up aquatic plants. These diving water birds must swim to the surface to swallow that vegetation, but some of them are robbed by waiting gadwalls and wigeons that see them surfacing and quickly take some of that food right from the coots' and divers' bills, obliging them to work harder to make a living. But it is entertaining to see the thieving gadwalls and wigeons snatch food from the coots and diving ducks.
Gadwalls and American wigeons are adaptable, attractive and common kinds of ducks in North America. They share several habits, including and most notably, their trait of stealing food from the bills of other water birds as soon as they surface from under water. Most species of life on Earth are resilient, which allows them to live indefinitely on this planet of constant changes and new opportunities.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Winter Nature Close to Home
One can enjoy and be inspired by the beauty and intrigue of nature close to home as much as by traveling all over the world. The same rules apply to every kind of life in every niche throughout Earth. I drove into scenic farmland less than a mile from my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania on January 11, 2017, a cloudy, but pleasantly warm day, simply to enjoy nature where I found it. I had been in that particular cropland dozens of times, but I am a firm believer that the best places to observe nature intimately and enjoy it are the most ordinary, the most familiar and, perhaps, the closest to home. And I believe that one can learn the most lessons from the most adaptable, therefore, the most numerous and visible of species. But, sometimes, one must wait and watch even for the most common of wild creatures.
The first stop I made was just outside New Holland, by a meadow of tall grasses and so-called weeds with a small stream flowing through that pasture. I stopped to see what I estimated to be 70 beautiful mallard ducks. Some were swimming in a slow stretch of the waterway, while others were feeding, half-concealed, on seeds and shoots of the beige-colored plants in that pasture. I looked for other kinds of ducks among the mallards, as there sometimes are, but didn't see any in that flock.
As I briefly scanned the mallards, I noticed an adult red-tailed hawk perched low in a leaning, dead tree in the meadow. But a minute later that raptor flapped and soared over the pasture and ducks and landed in a half-grown tree beside another red-tail in an overgrown thicket in a pasture across the road from the first one. I suspect these red-tails are a mated pair because mid-January is the beginning of red-tail nesting season. Meanwhile, many panic-stricken mallards flew up from the tall grasses and landed on the stream for their safety. There they swam about with their necks stretched upward in alarm.
While the mallards and red-tails were interacting with each other in the foreground of my view, I noticed about 16 rock pigeons wheeling several times in the sky over farm buildings in the background. Maybe they were just getting exercise, but I thought those pigeons would never land, but finally they did on a silo and electric wires across the farmyard. Pigeons are permanent residents wherever they are and they feed on waste grain in the fields and roost and nest in farm buildings, under bridges over roads and on the rock ledges of quarries. They originally nested on rock cliffs of the Mediterranean Sea in Europe.
While I was watching the activities of the handsome mallards, red-tails and pigeons, I noticed a picturesque great blue heron wading in the brook in the back of the pasture in its search for minnows to eat. And I saw a muskrat swim quickly from one bank to the other and disappear into a muskrat burrow, in a swirl of stirred-up mud, at the waterway's normal level.
Moving on, I parked along another country road with a soybean field harvested to the ground on one side and an alfalfa field on the other, both of which were only a few hundred yards from the Mallard Meadow, which I could still see. A few northern horned larks, with their striking yellow and black face patterns walked over the dead soybean plants and bare ground to look for weed and grass seeds to eat. Because most of their feathering is so well camouflaged, I would not have seen them if they weren't moving about in search of food.
While sitting by that soybean field, I noticed that the mallards took flight and were circling the pasture at tree top level several times. I didn't know if the ducks just wanted exercise or if they were stirred into flight by the red-tails or some other creature.
And while the mallards were flying back and forth over the meadow, I noticed a group of nine Canada geese flying and honking across the sky and landing in that same pasture to nibble short grass. I've seen Canadas in that area off and on for years. It seems to be one of their favorite feeding areas.
I drove back to the overgrown meadow, which is dominated by half-grown river birch trees and red-twig dogwood shrubs, both of which do well in constantly moist ground, which that pasture has. The birches have rustic and attractive bark that peels off trunks and limbs in thin, little strips. And the dogwoods do have beautifully red twigs. There are, also, a few crab apple trees in that thicket and a wall to wall, tall carpet of grasses and "weeds".
I saw a few species of small birds in that thicket during the 15 minutes I watched it. Twelve or more house sparrows resting in a birch where they might have been eating its seeds or grass seeds. There were a few American goldfinches perched on weeds and eating their seeds. A song sparrow was hopping about and flicking its tail along the bank of the stream in that thicket, a niche where it consumes seeds and invertebrates. And I saw a northern mockingbird in that thicket. I saw the mocker fly in with white wing patches flashing. But that bird seemed to disappear the instant it settled on a twig because its wing patches were covered. I saw it again when it flew to another tree because of those flashing wings. That white that disappears when the mockers land might confuse predators who see the flashing and then they don't. The mocker's food, incidentally, probably is the fruits of the crab apples.
As I drove home, I was filled again with peace, joy and inspiration from having experienced nature up close and personally. All that less than a mile from home.
The first stop I made was just outside New Holland, by a meadow of tall grasses and so-called weeds with a small stream flowing through that pasture. I stopped to see what I estimated to be 70 beautiful mallard ducks. Some were swimming in a slow stretch of the waterway, while others were feeding, half-concealed, on seeds and shoots of the beige-colored plants in that pasture. I looked for other kinds of ducks among the mallards, as there sometimes are, but didn't see any in that flock.
As I briefly scanned the mallards, I noticed an adult red-tailed hawk perched low in a leaning, dead tree in the meadow. But a minute later that raptor flapped and soared over the pasture and ducks and landed in a half-grown tree beside another red-tail in an overgrown thicket in a pasture across the road from the first one. I suspect these red-tails are a mated pair because mid-January is the beginning of red-tail nesting season. Meanwhile, many panic-stricken mallards flew up from the tall grasses and landed on the stream for their safety. There they swam about with their necks stretched upward in alarm.
While the mallards and red-tails were interacting with each other in the foreground of my view, I noticed about 16 rock pigeons wheeling several times in the sky over farm buildings in the background. Maybe they were just getting exercise, but I thought those pigeons would never land, but finally they did on a silo and electric wires across the farmyard. Pigeons are permanent residents wherever they are and they feed on waste grain in the fields and roost and nest in farm buildings, under bridges over roads and on the rock ledges of quarries. They originally nested on rock cliffs of the Mediterranean Sea in Europe.
While I was watching the activities of the handsome mallards, red-tails and pigeons, I noticed a picturesque great blue heron wading in the brook in the back of the pasture in its search for minnows to eat. And I saw a muskrat swim quickly from one bank to the other and disappear into a muskrat burrow, in a swirl of stirred-up mud, at the waterway's normal level.
Moving on, I parked along another country road with a soybean field harvested to the ground on one side and an alfalfa field on the other, both of which were only a few hundred yards from the Mallard Meadow, which I could still see. A few northern horned larks, with their striking yellow and black face patterns walked over the dead soybean plants and bare ground to look for weed and grass seeds to eat. Because most of their feathering is so well camouflaged, I would not have seen them if they weren't moving about in search of food.
While sitting by that soybean field, I noticed that the mallards took flight and were circling the pasture at tree top level several times. I didn't know if the ducks just wanted exercise or if they were stirred into flight by the red-tails or some other creature.
And while the mallards were flying back and forth over the meadow, I noticed a group of nine Canada geese flying and honking across the sky and landing in that same pasture to nibble short grass. I've seen Canadas in that area off and on for years. It seems to be one of their favorite feeding areas.
I drove back to the overgrown meadow, which is dominated by half-grown river birch trees and red-twig dogwood shrubs, both of which do well in constantly moist ground, which that pasture has. The birches have rustic and attractive bark that peels off trunks and limbs in thin, little strips. And the dogwoods do have beautifully red twigs. There are, also, a few crab apple trees in that thicket and a wall to wall, tall carpet of grasses and "weeds".
I saw a few species of small birds in that thicket during the 15 minutes I watched it. Twelve or more house sparrows resting in a birch where they might have been eating its seeds or grass seeds. There were a few American goldfinches perched on weeds and eating their seeds. A song sparrow was hopping about and flicking its tail along the bank of the stream in that thicket, a niche where it consumes seeds and invertebrates. And I saw a northern mockingbird in that thicket. I saw the mocker fly in with white wing patches flashing. But that bird seemed to disappear the instant it settled on a twig because its wing patches were covered. I saw it again when it flew to another tree because of those flashing wings. That white that disappears when the mockers land might confuse predators who see the flashing and then they don't. The mocker's food, incidentally, probably is the fruits of the crab apples.
As I drove home, I was filled again with peace, joy and inspiration from having experienced nature up close and personally. All that less than a mile from home.
Monday, January 9, 2017
More Farmland Critters in January
As I posted a few days ago, I saw scores of American pipits mixed in with flocks of hundreds of northern horned larks in extensive Lancaster County fields. Today, January 9, 2017, I ventured again into Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland, with particular emphasis on finding birds on manure strips spread on top of fresh, two-inch snow within the last couple of days.
Today, while searching for manure strips, I came upon hundreds of horned larks in a harvested cornfield that was planted to winter rye last autumn. One never sees horned larks so easily and abundantly until after snow covers the fields. The larks were walking about among the green shoots of rye and corn stubble and picking up wind-blown weed and grass seeds, bits of corn exposed by a day of strong winds blowing the snow off certain parts of the field and piling it into drifts along country roadside banks, and tiny pebbles from the soil, and roadsides, to grind the seeds in their stomachs.
Wind helps horned larks find food in snow-covered fields and shelters field mice living in the grass along roadsides. American kestrel falcons have a more difficult time finding and catching those mice when they hide under snow drifts.
Driving along, I came across another field that was swarming with hundreds of horned larks on manure to pick out chewed, but undigested, bits of corn. Unfortunately for me, however, the farmer wasn't done spreading manure on that field and when his big, noisy tractor and manure spreader entered the field to broadcast more livestock waste, the larks all took flight and bounded low over the field, away and out of sight. But they will be back to dine on corn bits when the farmer is done spreading manure on that field.
Moving on a few miles, I happened upon several adjoining fields of mowed alfalfa and harvested corn that were partly blown clean of snow. Yet again, hundreds of horned larks were scattered across those fields, along with scores of European starlings in one big gathering. Although I already knew it, I was once again reminded that there must be many thousands of northern horned larks wintering each year on Lancaster County cropland that had been harvested nearly to the ground.
Looking at the larks on those fields with my 16 power binoculars, I noticed a few, then more, and more snow buntings, down from nesting on the Arctic tundra, were among the larks in those vast, windy fields. The buntings joined the larks in those fields because they, too, are adapted to vast, open environments. Both the larks and the buntings walk about the fields in search of seeds and invertebrates, when the latter food is available. And both species are restless and take flight every few minutes, bounding low across the fields in mixed groups to different spots in the fields. The buntings exhibit more white feathering than the larks do when they are flying.
Northern horned larks, American pipits and snow buntings are all difficult to see, even without the cover of trees and hedgerows and with the aid of binoculars. And none of these species seek shelter by day. They all rely completely on camouflage for safety against predators. The brown and white snow buntings resemble snow-covered, wind-swept fields which are also brown and white mottled. This last grouping of fields I visited today is where a few snowy owls were seen three winters ago. Some winters one or two rough-legged hawks or a merlin might be spotted. And once several years ago, a white phase gyrfalcon was noticed on a lone tree among these same fields. These are all Arctic birds like the pipits, buntings and some of the larks, that seek a similar habitat to winter in. Life is inclined to stay with what it is adapted for and used to.
Merlins and kestrels prey on horned larks and their allies during the day. And red foxes might when those little birds are bedded down among clods of soil and snow drifts for a winter night.
With their camouflaged feathering and ability to fly erratically in flocks in wide open spaces, northern horned larks, American pipits and snow buntings are preadapted to wide open habitats for nesting and wintering. They help make the seemingly barren croplands come to life in winter.
Today, while searching for manure strips, I came upon hundreds of horned larks in a harvested cornfield that was planted to winter rye last autumn. One never sees horned larks so easily and abundantly until after snow covers the fields. The larks were walking about among the green shoots of rye and corn stubble and picking up wind-blown weed and grass seeds, bits of corn exposed by a day of strong winds blowing the snow off certain parts of the field and piling it into drifts along country roadside banks, and tiny pebbles from the soil, and roadsides, to grind the seeds in their stomachs.
Wind helps horned larks find food in snow-covered fields and shelters field mice living in the grass along roadsides. American kestrel falcons have a more difficult time finding and catching those mice when they hide under snow drifts.
Driving along, I came across another field that was swarming with hundreds of horned larks on manure to pick out chewed, but undigested, bits of corn. Unfortunately for me, however, the farmer wasn't done spreading manure on that field and when his big, noisy tractor and manure spreader entered the field to broadcast more livestock waste, the larks all took flight and bounded low over the field, away and out of sight. But they will be back to dine on corn bits when the farmer is done spreading manure on that field.
Moving on a few miles, I happened upon several adjoining fields of mowed alfalfa and harvested corn that were partly blown clean of snow. Yet again, hundreds of horned larks were scattered across those fields, along with scores of European starlings in one big gathering. Although I already knew it, I was once again reminded that there must be many thousands of northern horned larks wintering each year on Lancaster County cropland that had been harvested nearly to the ground.
Looking at the larks on those fields with my 16 power binoculars, I noticed a few, then more, and more snow buntings, down from nesting on the Arctic tundra, were among the larks in those vast, windy fields. The buntings joined the larks in those fields because they, too, are adapted to vast, open environments. Both the larks and the buntings walk about the fields in search of seeds and invertebrates, when the latter food is available. And both species are restless and take flight every few minutes, bounding low across the fields in mixed groups to different spots in the fields. The buntings exhibit more white feathering than the larks do when they are flying.
Northern horned larks, American pipits and snow buntings are all difficult to see, even without the cover of trees and hedgerows and with the aid of binoculars. And none of these species seek shelter by day. They all rely completely on camouflage for safety against predators. The brown and white snow buntings resemble snow-covered, wind-swept fields which are also brown and white mottled. This last grouping of fields I visited today is where a few snowy owls were seen three winters ago. Some winters one or two rough-legged hawks or a merlin might be spotted. And once several years ago, a white phase gyrfalcon was noticed on a lone tree among these same fields. These are all Arctic birds like the pipits, buntings and some of the larks, that seek a similar habitat to winter in. Life is inclined to stay with what it is adapted for and used to.
Merlins and kestrels prey on horned larks and their allies during the day. And red foxes might when those little birds are bedded down among clods of soil and snow drifts for a winter night.
With their camouflaged feathering and ability to fly erratically in flocks in wide open spaces, northern horned larks, American pipits and snow buntings are preadapted to wide open habitats for nesting and wintering. They help make the seemingly barren croplands come to life in winter.
Friday, January 6, 2017
Farmland Critters in January
Late this morning, January 6, 2017, I went for a drive through a little of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland to see what creatures were stirring after an overnight, two-inch snowfall. I cruised by harvested corn and soybean fields, some of them planted to winter rye to hold down the soil and enrich it, mowed off alfalfa fields, Mill Creek and a few pasture brooks. All the cultivated vegetation in those fields and meadows was close to the ground, offering little cover for wildlife, making this habitat seem bleak at best. Few lone trees and fewer hedgerows break up the continuity of the cropland I visited today. All that hardly seems a good place for wildlife, especially in winter, but I saw several species of birds and mammals by looking at the many places they could be in winter.
A field full of manure strips, that had been freshly spread on top of the snow earlier that morning, caught my attention because I could see a flock of hundreds of horned larks sweeping and bounding low over the field in flight, then, abruptly, settling on it. Glassing the manure strips with binoculars, I saw the many sparrow-sized horned larks with their black and yellow face patterns and feather tufts that resemble two tiny "horns". But their body feathering is brown, which camouflages them in the open fields until those birds fly. But with snow on the ground I can see them better, both on the ground and in flight. Today,I saw several other, smaller groups of larks in fields and along roadsides. They ingest tiny pebbles from the roads to help grind seeds and grain in their stomachs.
With binoculars, I also saw scores of American pipits in the horned lark flocks among those manure strips. Pipits are also sparrow-sized, and brown all over, with darker streaking for camouflage in open habitats. Some pipits are also seen wintering along the shallow shores of pasture brooks in this area.
The horned larks and pipits briskly walked about among the manure in the field to consume seeds and tiny bits of chewed, but undigested, bits of corn in livestock manure. But these restless, small birds take flight a lot. Both species sweep low around the fields a couple of times in swift, bounding flight, then suddenly drop to the ground again where they abruptly disappear.
Snow buntings and Lapland longspurs, down from the Arctic tundra for the winter, often mix in with the lark and pipit flocks, but after searching for them carefully, I didn't see any buntings or longspurs today. I have at times in the past, however. And a couple of times I've seen pure flocks of scores of snow bunting here in Lancaster County cropland in the past.
Horned larks are the species most at home on these open fields in winter. Probably some of these larks nested here and were joined by others of their kind that swept down to this area for the winter from farther north. A few kestrels, and sometimes a merlin or two, are in this same farmland where both species prey on the larks and their small-bird associates through winter.
I came upon another series of manure strips in another field that had horned larks, rock pigeons, mourning doves, starlings and turkey vultures on it. All these bird species, except the vultures, were there to eat undigested grain in the manure. A few dead chickens, or other farm animals, must have been in that manure to have drawn the vultures to it.
Pigeons live and nest in local barns and under bridges, as they traditionally have on rock cliffs above the Mediterranean Sea in Europe. Their species was brought to America by colonists who wanted their meat and eggs. But many went wild and have had wild descendants here ever since.
Mourning doves are native to North America and are pigeon relatives. Doves nest in trees in the warmer months and form flocks of themselves through winter.
Checking meadow brooks and Mill Creek, I saw several critters associated with water in farmland. I found a few gangs of mallard ducks, one of which had three American wigeons in it. And I saw a muskrat swimming from one side of a stream to the other and disappear into a muskrat den at the water level in a stream bank. A great blue heron was wading Mill Creek to catch minnows, while a male belted kingfisher perched on a tree limb over that creek to watch for minnows. I saw a few song sparrows along the edges of brooks where they search for invertebrates in the inch-deep, lapping water, mud and shoreline grasses. I noticed two killdeer plovers along the shore of one running stream where they were picking up invertebrates from the mud. Sometimes, I see a few Wilson's snipe, which are wintering, inland sandpipers, along Lancaster County's pasture brooks, but not today. Snipe poke their long beaks into the mud of shorelines to pull out invertebrates. Each one of these brook edge birds feeds on the same foods, but in different ways, reducing competition for food among them.
At one long, lean patch of trees along Mill Creek, I noticed two pairs of red-tailed hawks flying about among those trees, with about a hundred yards between each pair. I believe they were mated pairs preparing to nest among those trees because red-tails begin their courtships in January, as do bald eagles. Those mated hawks might be interesting to watch, from a discreet distance.
Finally I stopped at a lean hedgerow of trees and shrubbery, between fields, just off the country road I was driving on. A few American robins were eating fruit from a crab apple tree, while a group of house finches rested in that same tree.
House finches nest in suburban and urban habitats, but leave those human-made habitats in fall. I think they might get chased out of those habitats by the more abundant, more aggressive house sparrows. The finches winter in hedgerows where they eat weed and grass seeds, fruit and berries.
I also caught glimpses of a couple of blue jays, a pair of northern cardinals, a gray squirrel in a tree and a cottontail rabbit hopping about among the tall weeds in that hedgerow. There could also have been a skunk or red fox there as well, or a screech owl resting for the day in a tree cavity. These last few species indicate further the number of species of wildlife that adapted to agricultural habitats. Readers can also drive or walk through habitats around their homes and watch for wildlife as they go. I will be interesting, even surprising, the number of kinds of adaptable critters found on such outings.
A field full of manure strips, that had been freshly spread on top of the snow earlier that morning, caught my attention because I could see a flock of hundreds of horned larks sweeping and bounding low over the field in flight, then, abruptly, settling on it. Glassing the manure strips with binoculars, I saw the many sparrow-sized horned larks with their black and yellow face patterns and feather tufts that resemble two tiny "horns". But their body feathering is brown, which camouflages them in the open fields until those birds fly. But with snow on the ground I can see them better, both on the ground and in flight. Today,I saw several other, smaller groups of larks in fields and along roadsides. They ingest tiny pebbles from the roads to help grind seeds and grain in their stomachs.
With binoculars, I also saw scores of American pipits in the horned lark flocks among those manure strips. Pipits are also sparrow-sized, and brown all over, with darker streaking for camouflage in open habitats. Some pipits are also seen wintering along the shallow shores of pasture brooks in this area.
The horned larks and pipits briskly walked about among the manure in the field to consume seeds and tiny bits of chewed, but undigested, bits of corn in livestock manure. But these restless, small birds take flight a lot. Both species sweep low around the fields a couple of times in swift, bounding flight, then suddenly drop to the ground again where they abruptly disappear.
Snow buntings and Lapland longspurs, down from the Arctic tundra for the winter, often mix in with the lark and pipit flocks, but after searching for them carefully, I didn't see any buntings or longspurs today. I have at times in the past, however. And a couple of times I've seen pure flocks of scores of snow bunting here in Lancaster County cropland in the past.
Horned larks are the species most at home on these open fields in winter. Probably some of these larks nested here and were joined by others of their kind that swept down to this area for the winter from farther north. A few kestrels, and sometimes a merlin or two, are in this same farmland where both species prey on the larks and their small-bird associates through winter.
I came upon another series of manure strips in another field that had horned larks, rock pigeons, mourning doves, starlings and turkey vultures on it. All these bird species, except the vultures, were there to eat undigested grain in the manure. A few dead chickens, or other farm animals, must have been in that manure to have drawn the vultures to it.
Pigeons live and nest in local barns and under bridges, as they traditionally have on rock cliffs above the Mediterranean Sea in Europe. Their species was brought to America by colonists who wanted their meat and eggs. But many went wild and have had wild descendants here ever since.
Mourning doves are native to North America and are pigeon relatives. Doves nest in trees in the warmer months and form flocks of themselves through winter.
Checking meadow brooks and Mill Creek, I saw several critters associated with water in farmland. I found a few gangs of mallard ducks, one of which had three American wigeons in it. And I saw a muskrat swimming from one side of a stream to the other and disappear into a muskrat den at the water level in a stream bank. A great blue heron was wading Mill Creek to catch minnows, while a male belted kingfisher perched on a tree limb over that creek to watch for minnows. I saw a few song sparrows along the edges of brooks where they search for invertebrates in the inch-deep, lapping water, mud and shoreline grasses. I noticed two killdeer plovers along the shore of one running stream where they were picking up invertebrates from the mud. Sometimes, I see a few Wilson's snipe, which are wintering, inland sandpipers, along Lancaster County's pasture brooks, but not today. Snipe poke their long beaks into the mud of shorelines to pull out invertebrates. Each one of these brook edge birds feeds on the same foods, but in different ways, reducing competition for food among them.
At one long, lean patch of trees along Mill Creek, I noticed two pairs of red-tailed hawks flying about among those trees, with about a hundred yards between each pair. I believe they were mated pairs preparing to nest among those trees because red-tails begin their courtships in January, as do bald eagles. Those mated hawks might be interesting to watch, from a discreet distance.
Finally I stopped at a lean hedgerow of trees and shrubbery, between fields, just off the country road I was driving on. A few American robins were eating fruit from a crab apple tree, while a group of house finches rested in that same tree.
House finches nest in suburban and urban habitats, but leave those human-made habitats in fall. I think they might get chased out of those habitats by the more abundant, more aggressive house sparrows. The finches winter in hedgerows where they eat weed and grass seeds, fruit and berries.
I also caught glimpses of a couple of blue jays, a pair of northern cardinals, a gray squirrel in a tree and a cottontail rabbit hopping about among the tall weeds in that hedgerow. There could also have been a skunk or red fox there as well, or a screech owl resting for the day in a tree cavity. These last few species indicate further the number of species of wildlife that adapted to agricultural habitats. Readers can also drive or walk through habitats around their homes and watch for wildlife as they go. I will be interesting, even surprising, the number of kinds of adaptable critters found on such outings.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Wintering Barrier Island Birds
Southern New Jersey's barrier islands are breezy vacation hot spots along the Atlantic Ocean in summer. But in winter, the beaches and rock jetties of those long, lean islands along the ocean harbor several kinds of wintering birds that add their beauties and intrigues to that of the pounding surf and the smell of salt spray. These are all species that can be easily found with a little looking in the right places at the right times.
At least three kinds of gulls, including ring-billed, herring and great black-backs, being large and omnipresent along the sea coast, dominate the ocean breakers, beaches and jetties in winter. There they find food of living or dead fish, mollusks, crustaceans and other edible tidbits. And there they rest between feeding forays every winter day and night.
Barrier islands' sandy beaches were created by the action of endless waves shifting tiny particles of eroded rock. And those long lines of beaches protect the marshes and wooded mainland behind them from ocean waves. Jetties are human-made walls of large boulders extending into the ocean waves called breakers at right angles from the beaches to protect them from being washed away by those powerful breakers.
Several kinds of wintering birds feed in the ocean just beyond the breakers, and are seen, with binoculars, from shore. Flocks of northern gannets dive from as much as 60 feet high into the ocean after small fish, always several at a time, creating quite a spectacle of themselves. Each bird pulls its wings in and back just before hitting the water with a little splash. Pulling their wings in makes gannets more stream-lined.
Wintering red-breasted mergansers, common and red-throated loons and red-necked and horned grebes dive under water from the ocean's surface beyond the breakers to catch small fish. These boat-shaped birds, obviously, are from different families, but they are built the same and have similar food-catching techniques because of the watery habitat they share. Each habitat on Earth shapes the creatures in it similarly so they can best use it to their advantage and survive. For example, fish and whales are stream-lined for life in water, though they are from different classes of animals.
Common eiders, black scoters and surf scoters dive to shallow bottoms of the ocean, beyond the breakers, to feed on blue mussels, crabs and other ocean bottom creatures. Gatherings of these ducks, like loons and grebes, bob on the ocean surface when resting and digesting between feeding forays. But eiders and scoters don't compete for food with loons and grebes, which is why all those species can co-inhabit the ocean in winter.
Long-tailed ducks and harlequin ducks seek crustacea, blue mussels and snails among the breakers and jetties respectively. Long-tails get some of their food among the breakers, instead of beyond them, and harlequins get much of their sustenance from the jetties themselves. Each species has its own niche, reducing competition for food with other coastal birds.
Little groups each of purple sandpipers and ruddy turnstones, another kind of shorebird, are adapted to eating various invertebrates off rock jetties during winter. Both these species are dark, which blends them in better with the rocks they winter on. The resulting camouflage protects them from predatory birds, including wintering merlins.
Sanderlings are a pale sandpiper that winters in flocks on sandy beaches. There method of feeding is unique and necessary when dealing with unending sheets of ocean water rolling up the beaches and back down them. Sanderlings have adapted to getting food from the receding surf. Groups of sanderlings run up the beaches ahead of water sliding up the beaches. But the instant the water sweeps down the beach again, the sanderlings run right behind the receding water, stopping here and there to pull out a variety of invertebrates from it and the wet sand. Then those pale birds run up the beach again, ahead of another sheet of water sliding up the beach. This is how they feed all day, every winter day, which is entertaining to watch.
Flocks of northern horned larks, snow buntings and savannah sparrows winter sparingly among some of the grassy dunes in the back part of beaches, away from the waves. There they feed on grass and weed seeds through winter, and try to avoid the attention of merlins.
Breakers, beaches and jetties along southern New Jersey's shore, as elsewhere along the sea coast, have unique birds wintering in them. Those birds' beauties and habits help make those habitats more interesting during that harshest of seasons.
At least three kinds of gulls, including ring-billed, herring and great black-backs, being large and omnipresent along the sea coast, dominate the ocean breakers, beaches and jetties in winter. There they find food of living or dead fish, mollusks, crustaceans and other edible tidbits. And there they rest between feeding forays every winter day and night.
Barrier islands' sandy beaches were created by the action of endless waves shifting tiny particles of eroded rock. And those long lines of beaches protect the marshes and wooded mainland behind them from ocean waves. Jetties are human-made walls of large boulders extending into the ocean waves called breakers at right angles from the beaches to protect them from being washed away by those powerful breakers.
Several kinds of wintering birds feed in the ocean just beyond the breakers, and are seen, with binoculars, from shore. Flocks of northern gannets dive from as much as 60 feet high into the ocean after small fish, always several at a time, creating quite a spectacle of themselves. Each bird pulls its wings in and back just before hitting the water with a little splash. Pulling their wings in makes gannets more stream-lined.
Wintering red-breasted mergansers, common and red-throated loons and red-necked and horned grebes dive under water from the ocean's surface beyond the breakers to catch small fish. These boat-shaped birds, obviously, are from different families, but they are built the same and have similar food-catching techniques because of the watery habitat they share. Each habitat on Earth shapes the creatures in it similarly so they can best use it to their advantage and survive. For example, fish and whales are stream-lined for life in water, though they are from different classes of animals.
Common eiders, black scoters and surf scoters dive to shallow bottoms of the ocean, beyond the breakers, to feed on blue mussels, crabs and other ocean bottom creatures. Gatherings of these ducks, like loons and grebes, bob on the ocean surface when resting and digesting between feeding forays. But eiders and scoters don't compete for food with loons and grebes, which is why all those species can co-inhabit the ocean in winter.
Long-tailed ducks and harlequin ducks seek crustacea, blue mussels and snails among the breakers and jetties respectively. Long-tails get some of their food among the breakers, instead of beyond them, and harlequins get much of their sustenance from the jetties themselves. Each species has its own niche, reducing competition for food with other coastal birds.
Little groups each of purple sandpipers and ruddy turnstones, another kind of shorebird, are adapted to eating various invertebrates off rock jetties during winter. Both these species are dark, which blends them in better with the rocks they winter on. The resulting camouflage protects them from predatory birds, including wintering merlins.
Sanderlings are a pale sandpiper that winters in flocks on sandy beaches. There method of feeding is unique and necessary when dealing with unending sheets of ocean water rolling up the beaches and back down them. Sanderlings have adapted to getting food from the receding surf. Groups of sanderlings run up the beaches ahead of water sliding up the beaches. But the instant the water sweeps down the beach again, the sanderlings run right behind the receding water, stopping here and there to pull out a variety of invertebrates from it and the wet sand. Then those pale birds run up the beach again, ahead of another sheet of water sliding up the beach. This is how they feed all day, every winter day, which is entertaining to watch.
Flocks of northern horned larks, snow buntings and savannah sparrows winter sparingly among some of the grassy dunes in the back part of beaches, away from the waves. There they feed on grass and weed seeds through winter, and try to avoid the attention of merlins.
Breakers, beaches and jetties along southern New Jersey's shore, as elsewhere along the sea coast, have unique birds wintering in them. Those birds' beauties and habits help make those habitats more interesting during that harshest of seasons.
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Bird Songs of my Boyhood
I have pleasant memories of the songs and calls of birds in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania when I was a boy during the late 1940's and early 1950's. Most of the birds were common, everyday species in the various places I lived. I never had to look for those birds because they happened to be in the places I heard them before I got there. But it seemed I had an ear for bird songs in those days.
I remember walking along a sidewalk in Lancaster City when I was about five and seeing and hearing flocks of chimney swifts wheeling across the sky. The swifts chipped and chattered cheerily as they zipped after flying insects to eat. Those swifts were one of the first species of birds I can remember seeing.
A couple of years later my family moved to the country about a half mile north of Rohrerstown in Lancaster County. One sunny morning early in May, I stepped into a 50 acre woodland and heard many birds singing from the tree tops. I didn't know what species they were at the time, but later heard the same kind again and realized they were red-eyed vireos here from wintering territories in Central and South America.
When I roamed the fields around Rohrerstown as a boy, I would hear the intriguing piping of a small bird in hedgerows between the fields. Finally, I saw one of those songsters perched on the top of a tree and singing away vigorously. It was a small, deep-blue bird that I later identified as a male indigo bunting. I saw and heard many more indigos in summer in fields around home.
One summer evening when I was a child still living outside Rohrerstown, I was walking through sun-filled fields to a woodlot to enjoy nature. Along the way I heard a beautifully whistled bird song that slid up, then down in pitch and seemed to say "three up, three down". The bird repeated its song over and over, and I finally saw it perched on top of a plant. Its back and wings were brown and its under parts were yellow. It also had a black bib. It was a handsome male eastern meadowlark that took my breath away. And its song seemed haunting to me.
A few years later, my parents bought a summer cottage in the forest of Mt.Gretna in neighboring Lebanon County, Pennsylvania. Every summer evening during June and deep into July, I would hear the lovely, melancholy songs of male wood thrushes and eastern wood pewees, repeated over and over at the same time, and floating gently among the tall trees, until the woods were almost dark. The thrushes' songs were flute-like phrases that seemed to say, "e-o-laaa" or "a-o-leeee". The pewee songs were heart-rending; a quiet, repeated "pe-a-weee", "pe-a-weee" on the same note, with emphasis on the "weee", and ending with "peee-urrrr", with the ur sliding downward. Both the thrush and pewee songs would fade off with the darkening of the night in the otherwise quiet woodland. The woods at dusk and the birds' beautiful songs were like Heaven on Earth.
One or two nights at Mt. Gretna, in the middle of the night, I heard a male whip-poor-will repeatedly and loudly chanting its common name, "whip-poor-will". It was a wild, stirring chant that filled me with awe and excitement. I wished at the time that that boisterous, enjoyable chanting would never end.
In sixth grade, I went on a school field trip. When we stepped out of the bus, I heard a lovely bird song that started as a few slow notes and quickly accelerated to a beautiful trill in a line of nearby shrubbery. That kind of song from a few birds was emitted repeatedly and I thought the birds were eastern bluebirds. But later, upon hearing bluebirds' songs and the singing of other birds like those on that field trip, I realized that the mystery birds were field sparrows.
These are a few of my pleasant memories about nature when I was a boy. Readers may have similar memories about the natural world that will give you joy.
I remember walking along a sidewalk in Lancaster City when I was about five and seeing and hearing flocks of chimney swifts wheeling across the sky. The swifts chipped and chattered cheerily as they zipped after flying insects to eat. Those swifts were one of the first species of birds I can remember seeing.
A couple of years later my family moved to the country about a half mile north of Rohrerstown in Lancaster County. One sunny morning early in May, I stepped into a 50 acre woodland and heard many birds singing from the tree tops. I didn't know what species they were at the time, but later heard the same kind again and realized they were red-eyed vireos here from wintering territories in Central and South America.
When I roamed the fields around Rohrerstown as a boy, I would hear the intriguing piping of a small bird in hedgerows between the fields. Finally, I saw one of those songsters perched on the top of a tree and singing away vigorously. It was a small, deep-blue bird that I later identified as a male indigo bunting. I saw and heard many more indigos in summer in fields around home.
One summer evening when I was a child still living outside Rohrerstown, I was walking through sun-filled fields to a woodlot to enjoy nature. Along the way I heard a beautifully whistled bird song that slid up, then down in pitch and seemed to say "three up, three down". The bird repeated its song over and over, and I finally saw it perched on top of a plant. Its back and wings were brown and its under parts were yellow. It also had a black bib. It was a handsome male eastern meadowlark that took my breath away. And its song seemed haunting to me.
A few years later, my parents bought a summer cottage in the forest of Mt.Gretna in neighboring Lebanon County, Pennsylvania. Every summer evening during June and deep into July, I would hear the lovely, melancholy songs of male wood thrushes and eastern wood pewees, repeated over and over at the same time, and floating gently among the tall trees, until the woods were almost dark. The thrushes' songs were flute-like phrases that seemed to say, "e-o-laaa" or "a-o-leeee". The pewee songs were heart-rending; a quiet, repeated "pe-a-weee", "pe-a-weee" on the same note, with emphasis on the "weee", and ending with "peee-urrrr", with the ur sliding downward. Both the thrush and pewee songs would fade off with the darkening of the night in the otherwise quiet woodland. The woods at dusk and the birds' beautiful songs were like Heaven on Earth.
One or two nights at Mt. Gretna, in the middle of the night, I heard a male whip-poor-will repeatedly and loudly chanting its common name, "whip-poor-will". It was a wild, stirring chant that filled me with awe and excitement. I wished at the time that that boisterous, enjoyable chanting would never end.
In sixth grade, I went on a school field trip. When we stepped out of the bus, I heard a lovely bird song that started as a few slow notes and quickly accelerated to a beautiful trill in a line of nearby shrubbery. That kind of song from a few birds was emitted repeatedly and I thought the birds were eastern bluebirds. But later, upon hearing bluebirds' songs and the singing of other birds like those on that field trip, I realized that the mystery birds were field sparrows.
These are a few of my pleasant memories about nature when I was a boy. Readers may have similar memories about the natural world that will give you joy.
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