For an hour and a half in the afternoon of a few days ago, I explored a few spots along the upper reaches of the Conestoga River where it is more like a creek. Most of that upper part of the Conestoga is in lovely, sunny meadows in beautiful farmland in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. The feel of autumn was in the air, the sky was partly clear, patched with white and gray cumulus clouds, and I saw a variety of flowering plants, floodplain trees and a few kinds of birds along the river.
The white blooms of Queen-Anne's-lace and the yellow blossoms of evening primrose were abundant on the slightly higher, drier ground near the Conestoga. But a greater variety of flowering plants flourished in the river, and in the moist soil on the edge of it. Water stargrass is an emergent, grass-like plant that forms mats in shallow water. Its long, lean leaves undulate with the current and its small, yellow flowers emerge from the water to be pollinated by wind and insects. Some of those mats of water stargrass resemble lawns with golden blooms in the shallows.
Alga, other types of vegetation and fallen, dead leaves collect on those rugs of stargrass, forming platforms that dragonflies, small frogs, turtles and water snakes, and other little critters rest on. Minnows and other kinds of small fish hide among the long, waving strands of this plant.
Arrowhead and forget-me-not plants flourish in wet ground along the shores of the Conestoga. Arrowhead plants have arrow-head-shaped leaves, and white flowers during August.
Forget-me-nots have tiny, pretty flowers with blue petals and yellow centers during July and August. Patches of this lovely plant add much beauty to waterway shores.
I also saw lots of bushy-looking spotted jewelweeds with their orange flowers, much New York ironweed that have hot-pink blossoms, a little purple loosestrife with their pink blooms, and a few cardinal flower plants that have red flowers, all in low spots of ground among patches of tall reed canary-grass and cockleburs near Conestoga shorelines. I saw a ruby-throated hummingbird dipping its long beak into cornocopia-shaped jewelweed blooms to lap up energy-giving nectar. And several each of cabbage white, yellow sulphur and silver-spotted skipper butterflies visited ironweed and loosestrife blossoms to sip sugary nectar.
A variety of bottomland, floodplain trees are established in the damp soil of some meadows along the Upper Conestoga, as they are along other waterways in this area. I noted tall, massive sycamore trees with their mottled bark, black walnuts, some drooping with heavy, green-husked walnuts and river birches that have thin bark that peels off in decorative, little curls. I also saw crack willows, honey locusts, some with many sharp thorns sprouting from their bark on trunks and limbs, white ashes and shagbark hickories, some of which were laden with green-husked nuts. And I noticed red maples, silver maples and pin oaks, the latter having small acorns that gray squirrels and blue jays will gather in October for winter use. These floodplain trees provide shade for livestock and wildlife in the cow pastures. And they are beautiful to us people and supply food and shelter for several kinds of wildlife through the year.
I saw attractive orange and red berries of deadly nightshade vines among those plants' dark-green leaves and purple-petaled flowers that have yellow stamens protruding beyond the purple, making a striking combination of colors. Deadly nightshade is related to tomato plants and like them produce fruit that is green, then ripens to yellow, orange and, finally, red. Many deadly nightshade vines exhibit all those colors at once, including green, yellow, purple, orange and red. Birds can eat those berries, but people can not!
I noticed many dull-blue berries on a few gray-stemmed dogwood shrubs along the Conestoga. An immature gray catbird was consuming some of those berries.
I watched four species of fish-catching birds here and there along the Conestoga. A belted kingfisher winged rapidly downstream while emitting its rattling call. An immature green-backed heron landed on a gravel bar where it hunted crayfish and minnows. A stately great egret waded cautiously in shallow water and caught a few small fish as I watched. And, at the same time, a majestic great blue heron stalked slowly through grass about 30 yards away from the Conestoga. Suddenly, the great blue thrust its long neck and beak forward into the grass and caught a chunky meadow mouse that I saw struggling in the heron's powerful bill. The heron clamped its beak down on the mouse a few times to stun or kill it, dunked its victim in a puddle a few times to slick its fur for easier swallowing, tossed the prey into the air a few inches and swallowed it head-first and whole.
One never knows what beautiful and interesting part of nature will be experienced until one gets out into nature. Almost always something of nature will be noted when a person immerses him or herself in nature, even close to home. Experiencing nature is enjoyable and inspirational. Much wonderful life can even be experienced along waterways in cropland.
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Nature at Middle Creek
I drove to Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area in southeastern Pennsylvania for a couple of hours one afternoon in the middle of August of this year to experience what was happening in nature. I stayed on the main blacktop road that passes through Middle Creek and limited my survey to the large impoundment of a few hundred acres and three ponds of a few acres each across that road from the lake. I mostly saw wetland plants and animals during that little trip, but also a potpouri of other living beings.
Big carp jumping partly out of the water to snap up flying insects were one of the first creatures I noticed in the main lake at Middle Creek. Those carp and their young are the base of several food chains in that large impoundment, including the two immature bald eagles I saw soaring high over the lake, possibly watching for larger fish to snare in their claws and consume. And the half dozen double-crested cormorants and adult Caspian tern I noticed perched on dead tree stumps projecting from shallows in that impoundment the day I was there feed on smaller fish. Cormorants dive from the water's surface to catch prey in their beaks while the tern dives into the water from the air.
I also saw a couple of green-backed herons, a few great blue herons and two great egrets wading here and there in shallows along the shores of the lake and a couple of ponds. They, too, were watching for small fish to catch and eat. The related herons and egrets have long legs for wading in water and lengthy necks and beaks to reach out and grab finny prey in those sharp bills.
I saw several painted turtles of various sizes sunning themselves on rocks, and logs fallen into shoreline shallows in the lake and one of the ponds. The cold-blooded turtles sun themselves to warm themselves enough to hunt food and mates. Happily, those turtles were in propagation areas where people are not allowed to enter.
Patches of cattails and a few common kinds of flowering plants inhabited the open, sunny wetlands surrounding the lake and ponds. Some of the flowering vegetation included swamp milkweeds with pink blooms, blue vervains that have bluish-purple blossoms, tall Joe Pye-weeds that exhibit bouquets of dusty-pink flowers, ironweeds with hot-pink blooms and bushy-looking spotted jewelweeds that have numerous cornocopia-shaped, orange flowers.
A variety of beautiful, interesting insects, including bumble bees, monarch butterflies and tiger and spicebush swallowtail butterflies, visited the blossoms of those flowering plants to sip nectar. The monarchs were also around those little wetlands because of the common and swamp milkweed plants there. Female monarchs lay eggs on milkweed leaves, which are their caterpillars' only food. The two kinds of adult, flying swallowtails emerged from nearby woods to visit the wetland flowers because tiger larvae eat tree leaves and spicebush caterpillars consume spicebush and sassafras foliage. The nearby bottomland woods are filled with shrubby spicebushes.
Cattails, rushes, crack willow trees, bull lilies that had yellow flowers earlier in summer and lotus lilies that will soon have blossoms dominated one of the little ponds. Lotus lilies have large, round and flat leaves and flower heads that resemble the multi-holed heads of shower nozzles. They are uncommon here in southeastern Pennsylvania and I was surprised to see them at Middle Creek.
There were a few natural highlights in the drier parts of Middle Creek, near the wetlands along the road I was on. Several barn swallows zipped back and forth over the landscape as they caught flying insects in mid-air. I also saw an eastern kingbird perched on a wire as it watched for insects in the air. And I glimpsed a pair of lovely eastern bluebirds and a pretty male indigo bunting on the edge of a thicket of shrubs and sapling trees.
The tiny, yellow blossoms of Canada goldenrod, the dusty-pink blooms of common milkweed and the pale-orange flowers of black-eyed Susans dominated the attractive flowers along that roadside. And those pretty blooms were alive with bees and butterflies sipping nectar.
I had the good fortune to see eight beautiful American goldfinches, most of them yellow and black males, bathing in a slow, shallow part of a small brook. They didn't all bathe at once. Two or three were splashing in the inch-deep water at once, while the other goldfinches waited there turn while perched on nearby tree twigs. After all individuals had bathed, the whole flock bounced away in flight amid their cheery, musical notes.
I also noted a flock of 16 lovely cedar waxwings, some of them the young of the year, perched in a choke cherry tree and ingesting some of its fruits. Each bird seemed to consume its fill of small, pitted cherries, then fly a short distance to another tree to rest and digest. But after a short time, each bird was back to eat again. All that feeding and flying back and forth created a bit of a show.
But, perhaps, the single most exciting sighting of the day was two female wild turkeys together, with five half-grown poults between them. That little flock of turkeys was along the edge of a tall corn field right along the road I was on. The hens nervously watched for danger while the young were dashing about in pursuit of what looked like grasshoppers and other insects.
The turkeys were thrilling to me because I haven't seen many hens with young over the years, even though wild turkeys in southeastern Pennsylvania are fairly common and widespread. I see occasional flocks of adult turkeys on a somewhat regular basis in fall and winter, but not broods of young in summer until this year.
My trip to Middle Creek that afternoon in the middle of August was nothing special. But one can see the variety of wildlife that can be found in a small area during a limited period of time if one gets out and looks diligently for it. And wildlife seen always offers great rewards.
Big carp jumping partly out of the water to snap up flying insects were one of the first creatures I noticed in the main lake at Middle Creek. Those carp and their young are the base of several food chains in that large impoundment, including the two immature bald eagles I saw soaring high over the lake, possibly watching for larger fish to snare in their claws and consume. And the half dozen double-crested cormorants and adult Caspian tern I noticed perched on dead tree stumps projecting from shallows in that impoundment the day I was there feed on smaller fish. Cormorants dive from the water's surface to catch prey in their beaks while the tern dives into the water from the air.
I also saw a couple of green-backed herons, a few great blue herons and two great egrets wading here and there in shallows along the shores of the lake and a couple of ponds. They, too, were watching for small fish to catch and eat. The related herons and egrets have long legs for wading in water and lengthy necks and beaks to reach out and grab finny prey in those sharp bills.
I saw several painted turtles of various sizes sunning themselves on rocks, and logs fallen into shoreline shallows in the lake and one of the ponds. The cold-blooded turtles sun themselves to warm themselves enough to hunt food and mates. Happily, those turtles were in propagation areas where people are not allowed to enter.
Patches of cattails and a few common kinds of flowering plants inhabited the open, sunny wetlands surrounding the lake and ponds. Some of the flowering vegetation included swamp milkweeds with pink blooms, blue vervains that have bluish-purple blossoms, tall Joe Pye-weeds that exhibit bouquets of dusty-pink flowers, ironweeds with hot-pink blooms and bushy-looking spotted jewelweeds that have numerous cornocopia-shaped, orange flowers.
A variety of beautiful, interesting insects, including bumble bees, monarch butterflies and tiger and spicebush swallowtail butterflies, visited the blossoms of those flowering plants to sip nectar. The monarchs were also around those little wetlands because of the common and swamp milkweed plants there. Female monarchs lay eggs on milkweed leaves, which are their caterpillars' only food. The two kinds of adult, flying swallowtails emerged from nearby woods to visit the wetland flowers because tiger larvae eat tree leaves and spicebush caterpillars consume spicebush and sassafras foliage. The nearby bottomland woods are filled with shrubby spicebushes.
Cattails, rushes, crack willow trees, bull lilies that had yellow flowers earlier in summer and lotus lilies that will soon have blossoms dominated one of the little ponds. Lotus lilies have large, round and flat leaves and flower heads that resemble the multi-holed heads of shower nozzles. They are uncommon here in southeastern Pennsylvania and I was surprised to see them at Middle Creek.
There were a few natural highlights in the drier parts of Middle Creek, near the wetlands along the road I was on. Several barn swallows zipped back and forth over the landscape as they caught flying insects in mid-air. I also saw an eastern kingbird perched on a wire as it watched for insects in the air. And I glimpsed a pair of lovely eastern bluebirds and a pretty male indigo bunting on the edge of a thicket of shrubs and sapling trees.
The tiny, yellow blossoms of Canada goldenrod, the dusty-pink blooms of common milkweed and the pale-orange flowers of black-eyed Susans dominated the attractive flowers along that roadside. And those pretty blooms were alive with bees and butterflies sipping nectar.
I had the good fortune to see eight beautiful American goldfinches, most of them yellow and black males, bathing in a slow, shallow part of a small brook. They didn't all bathe at once. Two or three were splashing in the inch-deep water at once, while the other goldfinches waited there turn while perched on nearby tree twigs. After all individuals had bathed, the whole flock bounced away in flight amid their cheery, musical notes.
I also noted a flock of 16 lovely cedar waxwings, some of them the young of the year, perched in a choke cherry tree and ingesting some of its fruits. Each bird seemed to consume its fill of small, pitted cherries, then fly a short distance to another tree to rest and digest. But after a short time, each bird was back to eat again. All that feeding and flying back and forth created a bit of a show.
But, perhaps, the single most exciting sighting of the day was two female wild turkeys together, with five half-grown poults between them. That little flock of turkeys was along the edge of a tall corn field right along the road I was on. The hens nervously watched for danger while the young were dashing about in pursuit of what looked like grasshoppers and other insects.
The turkeys were thrilling to me because I haven't seen many hens with young over the years, even though wild turkeys in southeastern Pennsylvania are fairly common and widespread. I see occasional flocks of adult turkeys on a somewhat regular basis in fall and winter, but not broods of young in summer until this year.
My trip to Middle Creek that afternoon in the middle of August was nothing special. But one can see the variety of wildlife that can be found in a small area during a limited period of time if one gets out and looks diligently for it. And wildlife seen always offers great rewards.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Brook Animals
On August 16 of this year, in southeastern Pennsylvania, I stopped at a little "hole" of two-feet-deep water and slow current in a shallow, gravel-bottomed brook that flows under the small bridge I was on to see what aquatic critters would be visible in that hole, which was steeped in sunlight. That deep part of the little waterway was about the size of a pick-up truck and the water was delightfully clear and refreshingly cool on a warm afternoon. And it was edged by tall, bushy pale jewelweed plants that were bearing several yellow flowers, which, in turn, were surrounded by bottomland shrubby thickets and woods.
At first, I saw no creatures in or near the water with my eyes alone, though several each of bumble bees and least skipper butterflies were visiting the jewelweed blossoms. But by using 16 power binoculars, I saw about 20 black-nosed dace of both genders and various sizes. I didn't see them without those field glasses because dace are brown on top, which blends them into the bottoms of the waterways they inhabit. All the dace were swimming into the current just enough to maintain their positions in mid-stream in the hole, while they watched for invertebrates in the current to grab with their mouths and ingest.
As I watched the dace with binoculars, I noticed a school of several inch-long, big-headed, but tapered fish, pecking at the stony bottom of the little waterway. They were northern hog suckers, hatched in the brook I was watching late this past spring.
Northern hog suckers live in clear, clean streams and creeks that have stony bottoms, where these suckers often are associates of dace and stocked trout. And because they can't tolerate silt or pollutants in the water, they are another indicator of good water quality, as are dace, trout, mayfly larvae and other critters.
Hog suckers live among stones and gravel on the bottoms of clear streams and creeks. They are two-toned, mottled brown, which camouflages them in their niche among rocks and gravel. Adults use their big heads and strong snouts to push through and overturn stones, as pigs root into soil and other materials to get food. Suckers use their down-turned mouths to suck up aquatic insects, tiny fish, crayfish, snails and other little creatures that were hiding under rocks and gravel. Hog suckers also consume alga and other kinds of water vegetation off underwater stones. Interestingly, other kinds of fish lurk downstream from feeding hog suckers to snare and eat invertebrates and vegetation dislodged by the rooting suckers.
Most fish species have well developed air bladders that keep them at mid-level in the water. Hog suckers, however, have reduced air bladders, which allows them to more easily remain on stream bottoms with little effort.
While watching the activities of the well-camouflaged dace and suckers in the brook, I saw one, then another and another crayfish walking slowly among the rocks on the bottom of the brook. Crayfish slowly walk forward, but swiftly propel themselves backward with a quick, powerful, forward flick of their tails. That rapid flip of the tail fools would-be predators into mid-judging which way crayfish will go to escape being caught.
Crayfish resemble lobsters, complete with large front claws, but are much smaller than their saltwater relatives. And like dace and suckers, crayfish blend well into stony bottoms of waterways, making them invisible until they move.
Like all crustaceans, crayfish have a shell which is called an exoskeleton. They shed their shells every so often so their bodies can grow, a time when they are particularly vulnerable and hide out most of the time.
Crayfish skulk about carefully on waterway bottoms to scavenge plant and animal material from between and under rocks. They use their front claws to shuttle food to their mouths. Raccoons, mink, herons, snapping turtles and other creatures eat crayfish.
Spawning in spring, each female crayfish carries her eggs and small, white young under her tail until those offspring are old enough to be on their own. By June, many young crayfish are caring for themselves and growing rapidly, if they are not caught and eaten.
I also saw a few water striders, which is a kind of true bug, "skating" on the water's surface of that little hole in the brook. Striders' long feet act like snow shoes, spreading the weight of those insects so they don't break through the surface tension of the water.
Striders are dark on top, camouflaging them against the bottom. They use their pair of front feet to catch land invertebrates floundering on the water's surface.
A couple of metallic-green, male black-winged damselflies fluttered in the sunlight along the edges of this little deep. These damselflies probably were aquatic nymphs in this brook last year until this summer. Damselfly young and adults prey on small invertebrates in their respective habitats.
A half-dozen, two-inch-long bluegill sunfish hovered motionlessly in this pool. Again, I probably would not have seen them without field glasses. They descended from bluegills that spawned in the creek this brook pours into. And they feed mostly on invertebrates and tiny fish.
I got a glimpse of a young northern water snake sneaking along the edges of this pool after small fish and crayfish to eat. The snake, too, was camouflaged, to ambush prey and hide from enemies.
That little hole in the brook is small and limited in kinds of little creatures that are camouflaged in their shared habitat, but big in beauties and intrigues. And, as everywhere, there are lessons in food chains and camouflage in this clear-water habitat.
At first, I saw no creatures in or near the water with my eyes alone, though several each of bumble bees and least skipper butterflies were visiting the jewelweed blossoms. But by using 16 power binoculars, I saw about 20 black-nosed dace of both genders and various sizes. I didn't see them without those field glasses because dace are brown on top, which blends them into the bottoms of the waterways they inhabit. All the dace were swimming into the current just enough to maintain their positions in mid-stream in the hole, while they watched for invertebrates in the current to grab with their mouths and ingest.
As I watched the dace with binoculars, I noticed a school of several inch-long, big-headed, but tapered fish, pecking at the stony bottom of the little waterway. They were northern hog suckers, hatched in the brook I was watching late this past spring.
Northern hog suckers live in clear, clean streams and creeks that have stony bottoms, where these suckers often are associates of dace and stocked trout. And because they can't tolerate silt or pollutants in the water, they are another indicator of good water quality, as are dace, trout, mayfly larvae and other critters.
Hog suckers live among stones and gravel on the bottoms of clear streams and creeks. They are two-toned, mottled brown, which camouflages them in their niche among rocks and gravel. Adults use their big heads and strong snouts to push through and overturn stones, as pigs root into soil and other materials to get food. Suckers use their down-turned mouths to suck up aquatic insects, tiny fish, crayfish, snails and other little creatures that were hiding under rocks and gravel. Hog suckers also consume alga and other kinds of water vegetation off underwater stones. Interestingly, other kinds of fish lurk downstream from feeding hog suckers to snare and eat invertebrates and vegetation dislodged by the rooting suckers.
Most fish species have well developed air bladders that keep them at mid-level in the water. Hog suckers, however, have reduced air bladders, which allows them to more easily remain on stream bottoms with little effort.
While watching the activities of the well-camouflaged dace and suckers in the brook, I saw one, then another and another crayfish walking slowly among the rocks on the bottom of the brook. Crayfish slowly walk forward, but swiftly propel themselves backward with a quick, powerful, forward flick of their tails. That rapid flip of the tail fools would-be predators into mid-judging which way crayfish will go to escape being caught.
Crayfish resemble lobsters, complete with large front claws, but are much smaller than their saltwater relatives. And like dace and suckers, crayfish blend well into stony bottoms of waterways, making them invisible until they move.
Like all crustaceans, crayfish have a shell which is called an exoskeleton. They shed their shells every so often so their bodies can grow, a time when they are particularly vulnerable and hide out most of the time.
Crayfish skulk about carefully on waterway bottoms to scavenge plant and animal material from between and under rocks. They use their front claws to shuttle food to their mouths. Raccoons, mink, herons, snapping turtles and other creatures eat crayfish.
Spawning in spring, each female crayfish carries her eggs and small, white young under her tail until those offspring are old enough to be on their own. By June, many young crayfish are caring for themselves and growing rapidly, if they are not caught and eaten.
I also saw a few water striders, which is a kind of true bug, "skating" on the water's surface of that little hole in the brook. Striders' long feet act like snow shoes, spreading the weight of those insects so they don't break through the surface tension of the water.
Striders are dark on top, camouflaging them against the bottom. They use their pair of front feet to catch land invertebrates floundering on the water's surface.
A couple of metallic-green, male black-winged damselflies fluttered in the sunlight along the edges of this little deep. These damselflies probably were aquatic nymphs in this brook last year until this summer. Damselfly young and adults prey on small invertebrates in their respective habitats.
A half-dozen, two-inch-long bluegill sunfish hovered motionlessly in this pool. Again, I probably would not have seen them without field glasses. They descended from bluegills that spawned in the creek this brook pours into. And they feed mostly on invertebrates and tiny fish.
I got a glimpse of a young northern water snake sneaking along the edges of this pool after small fish and crayfish to eat. The snake, too, was camouflaged, to ambush prey and hide from enemies.
That little hole in the brook is small and limited in kinds of little creatures that are camouflaged in their shared habitat, but big in beauties and intrigues. And, as everywhere, there are lessons in food chains and camouflage in this clear-water habitat.
Monday, August 21, 2017
Bull Thistle Beauties
For a couple of hours in the afternoon a few days ago I was driving around in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland to see what was happening in nature. I noticed a few clumps of tall bull thistles blooming here and there above the short grass of certain grazed cow pastures. And I saw a few each of American goldfinches and butterflies at one of those patches of bull thistles. I stopped to get a better look at the goldfinches and butterflies among the flowers of those thistles. Two of the goldfinches were striking males in their bright yellow feathering with black wings, tails and jaunty caps set forward on their foreheads. The third goldfinch was a pretty olive and yellow female. Looking at the butterflies with field glasses, I saw they were the lovely painted ladies and one monarch. The birds were eating seeds from the thistles, making the fluffy parachutes drift away on the breeze without their seed cargoes. But the painted ladies and monarch were sipping sugary nectar from the reddish-purple blossoms. The flowers, birds and butterflies were all beautiful in that sunny farmland meadow in mid-August.
Though I see Canada thistles and nodding thistles, both aliens from Europe, blooming in June in Lancaster County, I don't think I see bull thistles blossoming until August in this area. Bull thistles are also aliens from Europe and western Asia. All three of these thistles species have long ago adapted to disturbed ground in Eurasia and have benefited from that characteristic here in North America. Where the soil has been denuded or mowed for agriculture, these thistles have less competition from other plants for rainfall and sunlight.
A biennial plant species, bull thistles grow a ground-hugging rosette of prickly leaves during its first year of life. But during their second growing season, they develop a half-dozen, more or less, spiny stems that can grow up to seven feet tall, each of which bears one to three pretty flowers. And this species avoids being grazed by livestock because of the sharp prickles on its leaves and stems.
Bull thistle blooms attract several kinds of insects that sip their nectar, including honey bees, bumble bees and a variety of lovely butterflies, all of which pollinate those thistle blossoms while ingesting the nectar. Some of the more colorful and common of butterflies that consume bull thistle nectar are monarchs, frittillaries, clouded sulphurs, some of the swallowtails and painted ladies. In fact, the caterpillars of painted ladies ingest the foliage of this and other kinds of thistles before they pupate and change to butterflies.
Interestingly, ruby-throated hummingbirds also sip nectar from bull thistle flowers. As they do among all flowers, these hummingbirds hover on rapidly beating wings above or before the blooms, insert their long beaks into the blossoms and lap the nectar with their even longer tongues. In August, adult ruby-throats, their young of the year and migrants of their species benefit greatly from the nectar of bull thistles and other late-blooming flowering species.
Here in Lancaster County, American goldfinches and house finches are the seed-eating birds most likely to eat bull thistle seeds. The reddish-purple of the remaining flowers among green leaves, the yellow and black of the goldfinches and the pink of male house finches make lovely pictures of much natural beauty. Goldfinches delay their nesting so they can make their petite nurseries of thistle fluff, bound together with spider webs, and feed their young in those lovely cradles a predigested porridge of thistle seeds.
Fluffy bull thistle parachutes blowing on the wind, each with its seed, or without, make another pretty sight in sunny pastures in August. Many seeds are scattered on the wind, some of them to plots of open, sunny ground where bull thistles aren't growing, thereby spreading and increasing the numbers of bull thistle plants across the landscape.
Bull thistles are just one kind of wild vegetation in farmland. They and the other types of green plants throughout the world have their life histories, and influences on the environment, wildlife and us people. And they are pretty to see. We could not live without plants' edible parts and beauties.
Though I see Canada thistles and nodding thistles, both aliens from Europe, blooming in June in Lancaster County, I don't think I see bull thistles blossoming until August in this area. Bull thistles are also aliens from Europe and western Asia. All three of these thistles species have long ago adapted to disturbed ground in Eurasia and have benefited from that characteristic here in North America. Where the soil has been denuded or mowed for agriculture, these thistles have less competition from other plants for rainfall and sunlight.
A biennial plant species, bull thistles grow a ground-hugging rosette of prickly leaves during its first year of life. But during their second growing season, they develop a half-dozen, more or less, spiny stems that can grow up to seven feet tall, each of which bears one to three pretty flowers. And this species avoids being grazed by livestock because of the sharp prickles on its leaves and stems.
Bull thistle blooms attract several kinds of insects that sip their nectar, including honey bees, bumble bees and a variety of lovely butterflies, all of which pollinate those thistle blossoms while ingesting the nectar. Some of the more colorful and common of butterflies that consume bull thistle nectar are monarchs, frittillaries, clouded sulphurs, some of the swallowtails and painted ladies. In fact, the caterpillars of painted ladies ingest the foliage of this and other kinds of thistles before they pupate and change to butterflies.
Interestingly, ruby-throated hummingbirds also sip nectar from bull thistle flowers. As they do among all flowers, these hummingbirds hover on rapidly beating wings above or before the blooms, insert their long beaks into the blossoms and lap the nectar with their even longer tongues. In August, adult ruby-throats, their young of the year and migrants of their species benefit greatly from the nectar of bull thistles and other late-blooming flowering species.
Here in Lancaster County, American goldfinches and house finches are the seed-eating birds most likely to eat bull thistle seeds. The reddish-purple of the remaining flowers among green leaves, the yellow and black of the goldfinches and the pink of male house finches make lovely pictures of much natural beauty. Goldfinches delay their nesting so they can make their petite nurseries of thistle fluff, bound together with spider webs, and feed their young in those lovely cradles a predigested porridge of thistle seeds.
Fluffy bull thistle parachutes blowing on the wind, each with its seed, or without, make another pretty sight in sunny pastures in August. Many seeds are scattered on the wind, some of them to plots of open, sunny ground where bull thistles aren't growing, thereby spreading and increasing the numbers of bull thistle plants across the landscape.
Bull thistles are just one kind of wild vegetation in farmland. They and the other types of green plants throughout the world have their life histories, and influences on the environment, wildlife and us people. And they are pretty to see. We could not live without plants' edible parts and beauties.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
August Evenings
Many summer evenings we sit on our deck in New Holland, Pennsylvania and watch the day come to a close. And during those evenings, we watch parades of puffy, gray, pink and white cumulus clouds pass across the sky while several kinds of wildlife are active, especially in August. The sun sets, a few stars become visible, and, at times, we see Venus and/or the moon. All that pageantry at dusk is entertaining, inspiring and free.
Just before sunset in August, a half-dozen chimney swifts, or more, sweep swiftly across the sky after flying insects, as they did during much of each day all summer. Meanwhile, little groups of post-breeding American robins wing over our neighborhood to roost overnight in nearby tall trees. But soon, those birds are on roost for the night.
Occasionally I see a few migrating nighthawks, which are entertaining swooping and diving after flying insects to consume as they pass overhead on swept-back wings on their way south ahead of winter. Some of them nested on flat, gravel roofs in cities, but are now going to tropical latitudes where flying insects will be available for them to eat through the northern winter.
Every year, during the latter half of August, several male annual cicadas broadcast pulsing, buzzing trills from tall trees in our neighborhood, as they do across much of the country. That shrill, often overwhelming, whining is produced by horny flaps on the males' lower abdomens and the pulsing occurs when each male moves his abdomen up and down while trilling. Cicadas also zip about among the trees to find partners to mate with. After laying eggs, both genders of cicadas die.
Cicada grubs live in the soil and suck sap from tree rootlets for about a year. But when mature, they crawl out of the ground, leaving quarter-inch holes in the soil, climb trees and other objects, split their brown, grub shells down the back and squeeze out of them, complete with two wings. When those wings are fully extended, the cicadas fly off in search of mates, leaving the empty shells hanging decoratively wherever they came to rest to emerge from them.
We see and hear other kinds of insects at dusk in August. A few, lingering male fireflies still flash their cold, abdominal lanterns, but their time will soon end completely. We see a few small, brown moths fluttering about outdoor lights. People in neighborhoods built in woods hear true katydids forever arguing about whether Katy did or didn't! We hear a few species of tree crickets trilling or chanting, depending on the species, in our shrubbery. We especially hear the rhythmic, seemingly endless, chirping of snowy tree crickets, also called temperature crickets because the higher the air temperature, the faster they chirp.
Other creatures are spotted at dusk in suburban neighborhoods. Garden spiders and other kinds of spiders weave webs at dusk for a night's snaring of flying insects. Some people hear the descending shivering of screech owls in taller trees. They might be young owls of the year that are establishing hunting territories and proclaiming their presences on them. Cottontail rabbits, striped skunks, opossums, and even white-tailed deer in some older suburbs emerge from hiding at dusk to seek food under the cover of darkness. Skunks waddling across a lawn is often an amusing, and fearful, sight.
But I think watching the aerial ballets of a few little brown bats in the air at once is the best entertainment outdoors at dusk. The bats hang in tall trees during summer days amid human activities and noise, emerge from hiding in quick succession soon after sunset and start out on the night's hunt for flying insects to ingest. Abruptly swooping and diving after victims in mid-air, they are swift on the wing, and highly maneuverable. And the bats are silhouetted beautifully against the darkening sky, creating exciting, unforgettable scenes.
Little brown bats live throughout much of North America. Females and their young of the year summer colonially in trees. Each adult is four and a quarter inches long with a wingspan of ten inches. They are furry and their wings are made of skin stretched from the fingers of the front legs to the toes of the back ones. Their tiny teeth grasp flying insects.
Hearing is the bats' best sense. Bats on the wing constantly squeak. The sound waves of those squeaks bounce off objects and return to the bats' ears. The bats form mental images of what is in front of them by hearing their vocalizations coming back to them, allowing them to avoid collisions and catch insects in mid-air.
Like all species of bats, little browns have one young per female per year. But bats can live 20 years in the wild and have few predators. Little brown bats are born in May to July and are left hanging by their mothers on their roosts while those mothers forage for food. But after a month, each youngster is able to forage for itself.
Once in a while, I visit a nearby, half-acre pond just before sunset to watch the entertaining succession of swallows, swifts and bats catching flying insects at every level over the water. Little clusters of mallard ducks float on the sunset-reflecting pond as the sun sinks into the northwest horizon while small flocks of American robins wing over the pond to their nightly roosts in nearby trees.
Several each of migrating tree swallows and local barn swallows, all dark silhouettes before the lovely sunset, careen swiftly among each other over the water after flying insects, with never a collision with their fellows. A few swifts sweep among the swallows in their quest for food.
And as the last swift is still catching flying insects, the first bat appears over the pond, beautifully silhouetted against the fading sunset. Then more bats appear until there are about a half dozen or more all sweeping over the water after insects. What a glorious, inspiring sight those swallows, swifts and bats on the wing make across the darkening sky!
August evenings are entertaining and inspiring. Get out at dusk and enjoy nature around your homes. Nature, wherever you live, helps make life more gratifying.
Just before sunset in August, a half-dozen chimney swifts, or more, sweep swiftly across the sky after flying insects, as they did during much of each day all summer. Meanwhile, little groups of post-breeding American robins wing over our neighborhood to roost overnight in nearby tall trees. But soon, those birds are on roost for the night.
Occasionally I see a few migrating nighthawks, which are entertaining swooping and diving after flying insects to consume as they pass overhead on swept-back wings on their way south ahead of winter. Some of them nested on flat, gravel roofs in cities, but are now going to tropical latitudes where flying insects will be available for them to eat through the northern winter.
Every year, during the latter half of August, several male annual cicadas broadcast pulsing, buzzing trills from tall trees in our neighborhood, as they do across much of the country. That shrill, often overwhelming, whining is produced by horny flaps on the males' lower abdomens and the pulsing occurs when each male moves his abdomen up and down while trilling. Cicadas also zip about among the trees to find partners to mate with. After laying eggs, both genders of cicadas die.
Cicada grubs live in the soil and suck sap from tree rootlets for about a year. But when mature, they crawl out of the ground, leaving quarter-inch holes in the soil, climb trees and other objects, split their brown, grub shells down the back and squeeze out of them, complete with two wings. When those wings are fully extended, the cicadas fly off in search of mates, leaving the empty shells hanging decoratively wherever they came to rest to emerge from them.
We see and hear other kinds of insects at dusk in August. A few, lingering male fireflies still flash their cold, abdominal lanterns, but their time will soon end completely. We see a few small, brown moths fluttering about outdoor lights. People in neighborhoods built in woods hear true katydids forever arguing about whether Katy did or didn't! We hear a few species of tree crickets trilling or chanting, depending on the species, in our shrubbery. We especially hear the rhythmic, seemingly endless, chirping of snowy tree crickets, also called temperature crickets because the higher the air temperature, the faster they chirp.
Other creatures are spotted at dusk in suburban neighborhoods. Garden spiders and other kinds of spiders weave webs at dusk for a night's snaring of flying insects. Some people hear the descending shivering of screech owls in taller trees. They might be young owls of the year that are establishing hunting territories and proclaiming their presences on them. Cottontail rabbits, striped skunks, opossums, and even white-tailed deer in some older suburbs emerge from hiding at dusk to seek food under the cover of darkness. Skunks waddling across a lawn is often an amusing, and fearful, sight.
But I think watching the aerial ballets of a few little brown bats in the air at once is the best entertainment outdoors at dusk. The bats hang in tall trees during summer days amid human activities and noise, emerge from hiding in quick succession soon after sunset and start out on the night's hunt for flying insects to ingest. Abruptly swooping and diving after victims in mid-air, they are swift on the wing, and highly maneuverable. And the bats are silhouetted beautifully against the darkening sky, creating exciting, unforgettable scenes.
Little brown bats live throughout much of North America. Females and their young of the year summer colonially in trees. Each adult is four and a quarter inches long with a wingspan of ten inches. They are furry and their wings are made of skin stretched from the fingers of the front legs to the toes of the back ones. Their tiny teeth grasp flying insects.
Hearing is the bats' best sense. Bats on the wing constantly squeak. The sound waves of those squeaks bounce off objects and return to the bats' ears. The bats form mental images of what is in front of them by hearing their vocalizations coming back to them, allowing them to avoid collisions and catch insects in mid-air.
Like all species of bats, little browns have one young per female per year. But bats can live 20 years in the wild and have few predators. Little brown bats are born in May to July and are left hanging by their mothers on their roosts while those mothers forage for food. But after a month, each youngster is able to forage for itself.
Once in a while, I visit a nearby, half-acre pond just before sunset to watch the entertaining succession of swallows, swifts and bats catching flying insects at every level over the water. Little clusters of mallard ducks float on the sunset-reflecting pond as the sun sinks into the northwest horizon while small flocks of American robins wing over the pond to their nightly roosts in nearby trees.
Several each of migrating tree swallows and local barn swallows, all dark silhouettes before the lovely sunset, careen swiftly among each other over the water after flying insects, with never a collision with their fellows. A few swifts sweep among the swallows in their quest for food.
And as the last swift is still catching flying insects, the first bat appears over the pond, beautifully silhouetted against the fading sunset. Then more bats appear until there are about a half dozen or more all sweeping over the water after insects. What a glorious, inspiring sight those swallows, swifts and bats on the wing make across the darkening sky!
August evenings are entertaining and inspiring. Get out at dusk and enjoy nature around your homes. Nature, wherever you live, helps make life more gratifying.
Monday, August 14, 2017
Chesapeake Waterbirds in August
On the same afternoon one day in the middle of August about six years ago, I went to a community park in Northeast, Maryland and another one in Perryville, Maryland. Both those towns perch on northern edges of the Chesapeake Bay, where the Northeast River and the Susquehanna Rivers enter that estuary. I visited those parks to view the Chesapeake and note what kinds of waterbirds are visible around it at that time of year. I saw the same kinds of birds from both parks, but in varying numbers between those public places. Many of them I could not have seen at all without my 16 power binoculars.
I saw two immature bald eagles circling gracefully, and seemingly effortlessly, maybe in the process of hunting fish, over the broad part of the Northeast River at Northeast that afternoon. One of those eagles dropped to the Northeast River and caught a fish.
A little later I noticed four immature balds and three adult balds, either perched in tall trees or soaring over the bay near the park at Perryville. The eagles in the sky may also have been searching for fish to catch in their talons. One young eagle chased and bullied an osprey to try to get the smaller raptor to release the fish it was carrying in its claws so it could escape the harassment of the eagle.
On that same afternoon in August, I noticed six ospreys at Northeast and, later, four at Perryville. Two ospreys at Northeast River were perched on a channel marker buoy where they, or another pair of ospreys, raised young for several consecutive years. The other ospreys were in the air a lot of the time and one of them dropped to the water feet first, plunged into the water with a splash, quickly emerged with a fish in its talons and flew with powerful wing beats to a nearby tall tree to consume its catch.
Several double-crested cormorants, with their long necks and beaks, were perched on a dead tree in the broad waters of Northeast River, while others dove under water from the surface around that fallen tree to catch fish to eat. At Perryville, I saw a few cormorants swimming and diving into the bay out from the park.
Three majestic great blue herons were perched in high trees, presumably to rest and digest fish, along Northeast River while I was there. A fourth stately great blue carefully stalked fish in the shallows of the Northeast River, with success.
And, amazingly, I saw a few dozen great blues from the park in Perryville. Most of those magnificent herons were wading in the shallows of the Susquehanna Flats where the flowing Susquehanna River slows dramatically at the head of the bay and dumps its load of sediment. That silt piles up because of a drastically slowed current and creates mud flats and inches-deep water where long-legged herons can wade to snare fish.
A few Forster's terns were present at both parks along the upper Chesapeake. At Northeast, a couple of terns caught small fish from Northeast River, while other terns rested on channel markers and that same dead tree in the water. At Perryville, a few Forster's flew over a backwater of the estuary and occasionally dropped into the water beak-first, with a little spray, to catch fish.
Post-breeding Forster's terns are fairly common along inland estuaries and rivers late in summer and into autumn. There they catch small fish until the threat of winter in October chases them farther south for the winter.
A few kinds of scavenging birds, two species of gulls and one type of crow, were also present at the parks in Northeast and Perryville when I was there in mid-August. Scores of ring-billed gulls and two laughing gulls were on the Northeast River, but I saw only a few ring-bills on the bay at Perryville. And there were about 20 fish crows alternately in the trees and the air along the river and calling nasally at Northeast, as there almost always are.
Late in August of another, more recent year, I went to the park at Northeast to see what water birds were around the broad part of Northeast River. Then I saw a few ospreys soaring and flapping as they watched for fish, two adult bald eagles, one of them chasing an osprey to get its fish, a couple of double-crested cormorants and several boisterous fish crows. I noticed a few Forster's terns flapping quickly and abruptly diving into the river after small fish. And I saw scores of ring-billed gulls and about 160 laughing gulls, half of them young birds of the year. All of the gulls of both species were either flapping gracefully in the air, or resting on the river or a grassy lawn. I don't think I ever saw so many laughing gulls so far inland as those on that late-August day. I was thrilled!
Knowing when to be where to see intriguing wildlife can bring much joy and inspiration to anyone. Successfully finding wildlife in its many and varied habitats, any time of year, can lift one's spirits and help make life more worthwhile.
I saw two immature bald eagles circling gracefully, and seemingly effortlessly, maybe in the process of hunting fish, over the broad part of the Northeast River at Northeast that afternoon. One of those eagles dropped to the Northeast River and caught a fish.
A little later I noticed four immature balds and three adult balds, either perched in tall trees or soaring over the bay near the park at Perryville. The eagles in the sky may also have been searching for fish to catch in their talons. One young eagle chased and bullied an osprey to try to get the smaller raptor to release the fish it was carrying in its claws so it could escape the harassment of the eagle.
On that same afternoon in August, I noticed six ospreys at Northeast and, later, four at Perryville. Two ospreys at Northeast River were perched on a channel marker buoy where they, or another pair of ospreys, raised young for several consecutive years. The other ospreys were in the air a lot of the time and one of them dropped to the water feet first, plunged into the water with a splash, quickly emerged with a fish in its talons and flew with powerful wing beats to a nearby tall tree to consume its catch.
Several double-crested cormorants, with their long necks and beaks, were perched on a dead tree in the broad waters of Northeast River, while others dove under water from the surface around that fallen tree to catch fish to eat. At Perryville, I saw a few cormorants swimming and diving into the bay out from the park.
Three majestic great blue herons were perched in high trees, presumably to rest and digest fish, along Northeast River while I was there. A fourth stately great blue carefully stalked fish in the shallows of the Northeast River, with success.
And, amazingly, I saw a few dozen great blues from the park in Perryville. Most of those magnificent herons were wading in the shallows of the Susquehanna Flats where the flowing Susquehanna River slows dramatically at the head of the bay and dumps its load of sediment. That silt piles up because of a drastically slowed current and creates mud flats and inches-deep water where long-legged herons can wade to snare fish.
A few Forster's terns were present at both parks along the upper Chesapeake. At Northeast, a couple of terns caught small fish from Northeast River, while other terns rested on channel markers and that same dead tree in the water. At Perryville, a few Forster's flew over a backwater of the estuary and occasionally dropped into the water beak-first, with a little spray, to catch fish.
Post-breeding Forster's terns are fairly common along inland estuaries and rivers late in summer and into autumn. There they catch small fish until the threat of winter in October chases them farther south for the winter.
A few kinds of scavenging birds, two species of gulls and one type of crow, were also present at the parks in Northeast and Perryville when I was there in mid-August. Scores of ring-billed gulls and two laughing gulls were on the Northeast River, but I saw only a few ring-bills on the bay at Perryville. And there were about 20 fish crows alternately in the trees and the air along the river and calling nasally at Northeast, as there almost always are.
Late in August of another, more recent year, I went to the park at Northeast to see what water birds were around the broad part of Northeast River. Then I saw a few ospreys soaring and flapping as they watched for fish, two adult bald eagles, one of them chasing an osprey to get its fish, a couple of double-crested cormorants and several boisterous fish crows. I noticed a few Forster's terns flapping quickly and abruptly diving into the river after small fish. And I saw scores of ring-billed gulls and about 160 laughing gulls, half of them young birds of the year. All of the gulls of both species were either flapping gracefully in the air, or resting on the river or a grassy lawn. I don't think I ever saw so many laughing gulls so far inland as those on that late-August day. I was thrilled!
Knowing when to be where to see intriguing wildlife can bring much joy and inspiration to anyone. Successfully finding wildlife in its many and varied habitats, any time of year, can lift one's spirits and help make life more worthwhile.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Window to a Creek
I no sooner stopped at a sluggish section of Mill Creek at the country road I was on in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland, than I saw an adult yellow-billed cuckoo on the edge of shrubbery about 30 yards across that waterway from me. I saw the chestnut flight feathers on one wing of the bird and its long tail. Then the cuckoo flew across the creek and out of sight, but I saw its long, white-spotted tail and thrilling, almost hawk-like flight. A few minutes later, I saw that cuckoo, or another one, in the same bushes across the creek from me. And I began to see other kinds of wildlife among the trees, shrubbery and tall grass flanking both sides of the waterway.
I was sitting in a ten-yard "window" in a wall of ash-leafed, black walnut and crab apple trees, gray-stemmed dogwood bushes and tall reed canary-grass at the edge of the creek for about an hour on the warm afternoon of August 10, 2017. That hole in the leafy wall allowed me to see the water, and vegetation on the other side of the creek. Usually, mid-afternoon in August is not the best time to look for wildlife, but I was pleasantly surprised by how many kinds of birds and other critters I saw in an hour.
I was also happily struck by the beauty of that sunny, little spot along Mill Creek; with its almost non-existent current, the green vegetation all around the water, and the blue sky, patched with puffy white and gray cumulus clouds above the water and plants. The strips of trees and other wild plants on the creek's banks are there because the ground is always too moist to cultivate.
I saw a few kinds of birds flitting in the thickets of gray-stemmed dogwoods and crab apples, including a few gray catbirds, a pair of attractive yellow warblers, a Carolina chickadee, a song sparrow and a pair of striking northern cardinals. These birds were catching invertebrates among the shrubbery, and the catbirds and cardinals were also eating ripening crab apple fruits.
Meanwhile, a few other species of small birds were catching flying insects along and over the creek, each kind in its own way, providing me with more entertainment. A few barn swallows zipped low over the water and vegetation, snapping up and swallowing flying insects, one after another, as they flew. And a willow flycatcher, a couple of cedar waxwings and a family of eastern kingbirds, perched on twigs here and there and watched for flying insects. I noticed that when a flying insect passed close by one or another bird's perch, that bird sallied out to snap up the insect in its beak in mid-air, then hurried back to its perch, or another one, to consume its victim.
A few kinds of larger, easily noticeable insects were along the creek where I was, providing me with more entertainment. Green darner and white-tailed and long-winged skimmer dragonflies dashed back and forth over the water and vegetation in pursuit of flying insects to ingest. And I saw a few kinds of colorful butterflies fluttering by my perch. A couple of monarchs were either looking for flowers to sip nectar, or milkweed plants to lay eggs on. I saw a few red admiral butterflies, which made sense considering the many stinging nettle plants along the creek shorelines where caterpillars of this species lived and dined until they pupated and changed to butterflies. I saw a question mark butterfly and a couple silver-spotted skippers. The skippers were there because of the many soybean fields nearby. Caterpillars of this skipper species consume the leaves of soybeans.
I also saw a few kinds of water creatures on the creek. A family of wood ducks, the hen and at least five of her mostly-grown ducklings paddled discretely on the water under grasses and tree limbs hanging over the water's edge. A few bluegill sunfish swam along the edge of water, while an occasional carp jumped partly out of the water, with a splash, to catch low-flying insects with their mouths. And I saw two lovely painted turtles sunning themselves on a half-submerged limb. They are called painted because of the red and yellow stripes on their necks and forelegs.
Obviously, I spent an interesting, inspiring hour along Mill Creek that hour in August. Readers can do the same close to home. Just be outside most anytime and wait and watch quietly for wildlife to go about its daily business. And some of those times will pay off in experiencing intriguing and beautiful wildlife in their natural habitats.
I was sitting in a ten-yard "window" in a wall of ash-leafed, black walnut and crab apple trees, gray-stemmed dogwood bushes and tall reed canary-grass at the edge of the creek for about an hour on the warm afternoon of August 10, 2017. That hole in the leafy wall allowed me to see the water, and vegetation on the other side of the creek. Usually, mid-afternoon in August is not the best time to look for wildlife, but I was pleasantly surprised by how many kinds of birds and other critters I saw in an hour.
I was also happily struck by the beauty of that sunny, little spot along Mill Creek; with its almost non-existent current, the green vegetation all around the water, and the blue sky, patched with puffy white and gray cumulus clouds above the water and plants. The strips of trees and other wild plants on the creek's banks are there because the ground is always too moist to cultivate.
I saw a few kinds of birds flitting in the thickets of gray-stemmed dogwoods and crab apples, including a few gray catbirds, a pair of attractive yellow warblers, a Carolina chickadee, a song sparrow and a pair of striking northern cardinals. These birds were catching invertebrates among the shrubbery, and the catbirds and cardinals were also eating ripening crab apple fruits.
Meanwhile, a few other species of small birds were catching flying insects along and over the creek, each kind in its own way, providing me with more entertainment. A few barn swallows zipped low over the water and vegetation, snapping up and swallowing flying insects, one after another, as they flew. And a willow flycatcher, a couple of cedar waxwings and a family of eastern kingbirds, perched on twigs here and there and watched for flying insects. I noticed that when a flying insect passed close by one or another bird's perch, that bird sallied out to snap up the insect in its beak in mid-air, then hurried back to its perch, or another one, to consume its victim.
A few kinds of larger, easily noticeable insects were along the creek where I was, providing me with more entertainment. Green darner and white-tailed and long-winged skimmer dragonflies dashed back and forth over the water and vegetation in pursuit of flying insects to ingest. And I saw a few kinds of colorful butterflies fluttering by my perch. A couple of monarchs were either looking for flowers to sip nectar, or milkweed plants to lay eggs on. I saw a few red admiral butterflies, which made sense considering the many stinging nettle plants along the creek shorelines where caterpillars of this species lived and dined until they pupated and changed to butterflies. I saw a question mark butterfly and a couple silver-spotted skippers. The skippers were there because of the many soybean fields nearby. Caterpillars of this skipper species consume the leaves of soybeans.
I also saw a few kinds of water creatures on the creek. A family of wood ducks, the hen and at least five of her mostly-grown ducklings paddled discretely on the water under grasses and tree limbs hanging over the water's edge. A few bluegill sunfish swam along the edge of water, while an occasional carp jumped partly out of the water, with a splash, to catch low-flying insects with their mouths. And I saw two lovely painted turtles sunning themselves on a half-submerged limb. They are called painted because of the red and yellow stripes on their necks and forelegs.
Obviously, I spent an interesting, inspiring hour along Mill Creek that hour in August. Readers can do the same close to home. Just be outside most anytime and wait and watch quietly for wildlife to go about its daily business. And some of those times will pay off in experiencing intriguing and beautiful wildlife in their natural habitats.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Swarms of Butterflies and Swallows
Many times I have driven along country roads in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland during August and September and been entertained by fluttering multitudes of yellow sulphur and cabbage white butterflies among the lovely red clover and alfalfa blossoms in hay fields and dozens or scores of local and migrant barn swallows, tree swallows and purple martins, which are another type of swallow, swooping low over those same beautiful fields. Those abundant butterflies and swallows are both seeking food, sugary nectar in the flowers for the butterflies and flying insects for the swallows.
Every late summer, flowery hay fields are full of those butterflies and swallows that create much beauty and interest to those who experience them. The yellow sulphurs are, by far, the most abundant of these five species in Lancaster County hay fields. Many alfalfa and red clover fields shimmer with thousands of yellow wings as the sulphurs continually flutter from bloom to blossom. The white-winged cabbage white butterflies are also common flitting among the flowers, and offering a spangling contrast of color among the yellow sulphurs.
The sulphurs are native to North America, but the cabbage whites are originally from Europe and Asia. Both these species, however, long ago adapted to agricultural practices and crops, which is why they are so abundant today.
Sulphur caterpillars adapted to eating the abundant clover and alfalfa, among other plants. And cabbage white larvae consume plant members of the mustard and cabbage families. The caterpillars' adapting to eating cultivated crops also led to their species' being abundant in numbers today.
Of the few generations of both species during the warmer months each year, the last generation spends the winter as pupae in the ground. Next spring they emerge as winged adults.
There are other kinds of butterflies commonly in red clover and alfalfa fields during July, August and September, including monarchs, silver spotted skippers, meadow and great frittilaries, and tiger, black and spicebush swallowtails. Each of these species has a reason to be common in hay fields. Monarch caterpillars feed on milkweed leaves that grow commonly along rural roads. Skipper larvae eat soybean leaves. Soybeans are a big crop in Lancaster County. Frittilary larvae ingest violet foliage, which is common in fields and along roadsides. Tiger swallowtails come out of nearby woods to visit clover and alfalfa flowers because their caterpillars consume tree leaves. Spicebush swallowtails also come from local woods because their young eat spicebush and sassafras leaves which are abundant in woods and along rural roads respectively. And the larvae of black swallowtails ingest parsley leaves in country gardens.
Sweeping swiftly across the sky, and over hay fields and other cropland, without collision among their relatives, swarms of barn swallows, tree swallows and purple martins pursue flies and other kinds of flying insects as those birds slowly drift south for the winter. And like hordes of butterflies in hay fields, these swallows are entertaining to watch careening in and out among their fellows. The swallow species have formed flocks prior to their migrating south to avoid the northern winter and find a reliable source of flying insects to feed on. Sometimes each species is in its own company, but other times they travel in mixed groups of scores or even hundreds.
All these attractive swallow species have long nested in North America. Barn swallows nested in the mouths of caves, but now raise young in barns and under bridges. Tree swallows hatch offspring in abandoned woodpecker holes and other tree cavities, and in bird houses erected for them and eastern bluebirds. And martins rear offspring in hollow, erected gourds and apartment bird houses which substitute for standing dead trees with several hollows in them. These species of swallows' adapting to human-made habitats has bolstered their populations tremendously, and has also increased our potential for enjoying their migration gatherings and flights. And these swallows cut into populations of flies, mosquitoes and other pesky, even dangerous, insects.
This late summer, or succeeding ones, watch for swarms of butterflies and swallows in and over red clover and alfalfa hay fields getting their respective foods. Those butterflies and swallows are always entertaining to see going about their daily business of food gathering.
Every late summer, flowery hay fields are full of those butterflies and swallows that create much beauty and interest to those who experience them. The yellow sulphurs are, by far, the most abundant of these five species in Lancaster County hay fields. Many alfalfa and red clover fields shimmer with thousands of yellow wings as the sulphurs continually flutter from bloom to blossom. The white-winged cabbage white butterflies are also common flitting among the flowers, and offering a spangling contrast of color among the yellow sulphurs.
The sulphurs are native to North America, but the cabbage whites are originally from Europe and Asia. Both these species, however, long ago adapted to agricultural practices and crops, which is why they are so abundant today.
Sulphur caterpillars adapted to eating the abundant clover and alfalfa, among other plants. And cabbage white larvae consume plant members of the mustard and cabbage families. The caterpillars' adapting to eating cultivated crops also led to their species' being abundant in numbers today.
Of the few generations of both species during the warmer months each year, the last generation spends the winter as pupae in the ground. Next spring they emerge as winged adults.
There are other kinds of butterflies commonly in red clover and alfalfa fields during July, August and September, including monarchs, silver spotted skippers, meadow and great frittilaries, and tiger, black and spicebush swallowtails. Each of these species has a reason to be common in hay fields. Monarch caterpillars feed on milkweed leaves that grow commonly along rural roads. Skipper larvae eat soybean leaves. Soybeans are a big crop in Lancaster County. Frittilary larvae ingest violet foliage, which is common in fields and along roadsides. Tiger swallowtails come out of nearby woods to visit clover and alfalfa flowers because their caterpillars consume tree leaves. Spicebush swallowtails also come from local woods because their young eat spicebush and sassafras leaves which are abundant in woods and along rural roads respectively. And the larvae of black swallowtails ingest parsley leaves in country gardens.
Sweeping swiftly across the sky, and over hay fields and other cropland, without collision among their relatives, swarms of barn swallows, tree swallows and purple martins pursue flies and other kinds of flying insects as those birds slowly drift south for the winter. And like hordes of butterflies in hay fields, these swallows are entertaining to watch careening in and out among their fellows. The swallow species have formed flocks prior to their migrating south to avoid the northern winter and find a reliable source of flying insects to feed on. Sometimes each species is in its own company, but other times they travel in mixed groups of scores or even hundreds.
All these attractive swallow species have long nested in North America. Barn swallows nested in the mouths of caves, but now raise young in barns and under bridges. Tree swallows hatch offspring in abandoned woodpecker holes and other tree cavities, and in bird houses erected for them and eastern bluebirds. And martins rear offspring in hollow, erected gourds and apartment bird houses which substitute for standing dead trees with several hollows in them. These species of swallows' adapting to human-made habitats has bolstered their populations tremendously, and has also increased our potential for enjoying their migration gatherings and flights. And these swallows cut into populations of flies, mosquitoes and other pesky, even dangerous, insects.
This late summer, or succeeding ones, watch for swarms of butterflies and swallows in and over red clover and alfalfa hay fields getting their respective foods. Those butterflies and swallows are always entertaining to see going about their daily business of food gathering.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
August Meadow Flowers
One late morning in the beginning of August of this year, I drove by a sunny, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania meadow that was spangled with many pretty flowers of several kinds, as I have most every year at this time for the last several years. Some of the blooming plants flourish in moist soil along a shallow, flowing brook, while other plants fare better in slightly higher, drier ground. But they all blossom from mid-July to late August, creating much beauty and interest in that pasture, and other local ones, for those who are interested in enjoying their beauties.
The flowering plants in sun-filled pockets of damp soil share that habitat with cattails and rushes, which are wetland vegetation. Cattails and rushes add diversity, and more beauty, to plant communities in moist soil.
The blooming vegetation, in order from the streamside out, include arrowheads with white flowers, deadly nightshade vines that have purple and yellow blossoms, swamp milkweeds that produce pink blooms, blue vervains with tiny, lavender ones, ironweeds that have deep-pink flowers and Joe Pye-weeds with clusters of dusty-pink blooms.
Arrowheads and nightshades grow along water lines. Nightshades have blooms with purple petals and yellow stamens, which offer a lovely contrast of colors. Bees and other kinds of insects visit nightshade blooms to sip nectar, pollinating those attractive blossoms in the process. Later small, green berries form where the flowers were. Those berries turn yellow, then orange, and red like tomatoes do. Nightshade vines are related to tomato plants.
Swamp milkweeds and vervains also offer a pretty contrast of colors. Bees, butterflies and other types of insects consume nectar from the flowers of both these plant species. Female monarch butterflies lay eggs on milkweed leaves, the only food their caterpillars will eat. The tall vervains have flower stems that resemble candelabras.
Ironweed and Joe pye-weed flowers attract lots of insects, including larger butterflies, such as tiger swallowtails and monarchs. These plants are the tallest and most striking of flowering vegetation in local sunny pastures.
The more upland flowering plants in this sunny meadow are also beautiful to see. Their blooms are of a variety of colors, including blue, white, pale-lavender, pink and yellow. The abundant chicory grows blue flowers that are an inch across. Those blooms usually close in afternoons, so look for them in the mornings.
The plentiful Queen-Anne's-lace, which is the ancestor of domestic carrots, have flat clusters of tiny, white blossoms that look like doilies. Seeds develop where the flowers were and those seed heads curl up in winter. Those seed heads resemble little birds' nests, and they look like vanilla ice cream cones when snow collects on them.
Peppermints bear tiny, pale-lavender flowers that are attractive to nectar-seeking flies and hover flies. Green bottle flies are the most common insects on peppermint blooms.
Common milkweeds, bull-thistles and red clovers all have pink blossoms. Several kinds of bees, butterflies and other insects consume nectar from these blooms and female monarch butterflies lay eggs on the milkweeds. And milkweed beetles ingest milkweed foliage while two kinds of milkweed seed bugs eat the maturing seeds of their host plants.
The lovely, black and yellow American goldfinches and other kinds of seed-eating birds consume the seeds of bull-thistles. The goldfinches also use thistle fluff from the thistle seeds to make their dainty, little nurseries in shrubs and sapling trees.
Most red clover hay fields swarm with bees, butterflies and other types of insects that visit their pink blooms to ingest nectar. Some red clover fields shimmer with the hordes of insects flying from flower to blossom.
And a variety of vegetation with yellow blossoms grow on the drier parts of cow pastures. Those plants, in order of abundance, are early goldenrods, butter-and-eggs, green-headed coneflowers, wild lettuce, buttercups and evening primrose. These golden flowers offer a diversity of colors in cow pastures. Insects commonly visit the tiny goldenrod blooms to get nectar. Goldenrods, coneflowers and evening primroses are all tall plants that are striking and obvious in the meadows they inhabit. The many types and colors of flowers blooming in this meadow offer much beauty, free, to those who look for them. And all one has to do is get out to where these blooms, and other beauties of nature are. Those beauties, when spotted, never fail to inspire and give spiritual lifts.
The flowering plants in sun-filled pockets of damp soil share that habitat with cattails and rushes, which are wetland vegetation. Cattails and rushes add diversity, and more beauty, to plant communities in moist soil.
The blooming vegetation, in order from the streamside out, include arrowheads with white flowers, deadly nightshade vines that have purple and yellow blossoms, swamp milkweeds that produce pink blooms, blue vervains with tiny, lavender ones, ironweeds that have deep-pink flowers and Joe Pye-weeds with clusters of dusty-pink blooms.
Arrowheads and nightshades grow along water lines. Nightshades have blooms with purple petals and yellow stamens, which offer a lovely contrast of colors. Bees and other kinds of insects visit nightshade blooms to sip nectar, pollinating those attractive blossoms in the process. Later small, green berries form where the flowers were. Those berries turn yellow, then orange, and red like tomatoes do. Nightshade vines are related to tomato plants.
Swamp milkweeds and vervains also offer a pretty contrast of colors. Bees, butterflies and other types of insects consume nectar from the flowers of both these plant species. Female monarch butterflies lay eggs on milkweed leaves, the only food their caterpillars will eat. The tall vervains have flower stems that resemble candelabras.
Ironweed and Joe pye-weed flowers attract lots of insects, including larger butterflies, such as tiger swallowtails and monarchs. These plants are the tallest and most striking of flowering vegetation in local sunny pastures.
The more upland flowering plants in this sunny meadow are also beautiful to see. Their blooms are of a variety of colors, including blue, white, pale-lavender, pink and yellow. The abundant chicory grows blue flowers that are an inch across. Those blooms usually close in afternoons, so look for them in the mornings.
The plentiful Queen-Anne's-lace, which is the ancestor of domestic carrots, have flat clusters of tiny, white blossoms that look like doilies. Seeds develop where the flowers were and those seed heads curl up in winter. Those seed heads resemble little birds' nests, and they look like vanilla ice cream cones when snow collects on them.
Peppermints bear tiny, pale-lavender flowers that are attractive to nectar-seeking flies and hover flies. Green bottle flies are the most common insects on peppermint blooms.
Common milkweeds, bull-thistles and red clovers all have pink blossoms. Several kinds of bees, butterflies and other insects consume nectar from these blooms and female monarch butterflies lay eggs on the milkweeds. And milkweed beetles ingest milkweed foliage while two kinds of milkweed seed bugs eat the maturing seeds of their host plants.
The lovely, black and yellow American goldfinches and other kinds of seed-eating birds consume the seeds of bull-thistles. The goldfinches also use thistle fluff from the thistle seeds to make their dainty, little nurseries in shrubs and sapling trees.
Most red clover hay fields swarm with bees, butterflies and other types of insects that visit their pink blooms to ingest nectar. Some red clover fields shimmer with the hordes of insects flying from flower to blossom.
And a variety of vegetation with yellow blossoms grow on the drier parts of cow pastures. Those plants, in order of abundance, are early goldenrods, butter-and-eggs, green-headed coneflowers, wild lettuce, buttercups and evening primrose. These golden flowers offer a diversity of colors in cow pastures. Insects commonly visit the tiny goldenrod blooms to get nectar. Goldenrods, coneflowers and evening primroses are all tall plants that are striking and obvious in the meadows they inhabit. The many types and colors of flowers blooming in this meadow offer much beauty, free, to those who look for them. And all one has to do is get out to where these blooms, and other beauties of nature are. Those beauties, when spotted, never fail to inspire and give spiritual lifts.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Small Colorful Fringillidae
I was driving between fields of tall corn on both sides of a country road in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland on July 30, 2017, when I saw a small blue bird land on the blacktop by the side of the road. In a split second I thought barn swallow, eastern bluebird and adult male indigo bunting, the latter being the correct identification.
Immediately, while driving along, I thought of the male indigos I saw along tall cornfields at this time of year in past years. I call them indigo corn buntings because of their perching on corn stalks and singing as they would on nesting territories in hedgerows and woodland edges. Maybe these males, probably post-breeding indigos consider the tall corn fields to be a kind of woodland, and they live and sing beautifully on the margins of them, while their mates and young grow fat and strong by eating invertebrates along real thickets of trees and bushes.
Adult male indigo buntings are pretty in summer. They are blue all over, while females and young are plain brown. But the males molt late in summer and are brown on their wintering grounds in Central America during northern winters. But by early May, indigos are back in the eastern United States ready to raise young in thickets along woodland edges, hedgerows, stream margins and roadsides.
Fringillidae are seed-eating birds, which includes sparrows, finches, grosbeaks and buntings. The species in this writing are colorful ones that nest in Lancaster County cropland. All species have large beaks for cracking seeds open. And they all also consume a variety of invertebrates during warmer months while raising youngsters.
The attractive male blue grosbeaks are larger than the sparrow-sized indigos and dark-blue all over, with two vertical, brown bars on each wing. Females and young are brown with darker-brown wing bars. Blue grosbeaks raise young in thickets similar to the habitats that indigos rear offspring in. Male blue grosbeaks sing sweet songs when perched on twigs and roadside wires. And this species, too, goes south for the winter.
The beautiful male American goldfinches are bright-yellow with black wings and tails and jaunty black caps on their foreheads. Females and young of this species are olive above and faint-yellow below, which camouflages them.
Goldfinches are vegetarians for the most part, feeding on alga from small brooks and seeds, especially thistle seeds, when those seeds mature in mid-summer. It's particularly interesting to see these colorful, little birds pecking at alga on streamside rocks and swaying among the blue blooms of chicory and the pink blossoms of thistle plants while ingesting the seeds of those plants, and others.
Female goldfinches delay nesting until July because they wait for thistle plants to go to seed. They use thistle fluff, along with fine grass and spider webbing to create cup cradles for their young in small trees and larger shrubbery in fields, meadows and suburban lawns near patches of thistles. And they feed pre-digested seeds, including those of thistles, to their young in their nurseries.
House finches are the only permanent resident species in this grouping. They hatch young in shrubbery in hedgerows, and in bushes and young arborvitae trees on city and suburban lawns. Males are light-gray, streaked and patched with pink on their heads, chests, wings and tails. Females and young are feathered the same, but without the pink.
Originally from the American west, house finches got east as cage birds that were released, found each other and raised young several years ago. Now they have small colonies all over the east. Males sing pretty songs early in spring, that are particularly appreciated in suburban areas, and each pair might raise up to three broods a season. In winter, this species may come to feed at bird feeders.
Dickcissels are mid-western, sparrow-like birds. Males are brown and streaked on top, and have black bibs and yellow chests. Females and young are plain brown and streaked only, like sparrows.
Many dickcissels annually come east, including into Lancaster County, apparently in slightly increasing numbers each year, to nest in hedgerows, weedy patches and the edges of grain fields. Males perch on twigs and roadside wires and sing their name "dick, dick, dick-sis,sis,sis,sis, sis" to establish nesting territories and attract mates.
These are pretty, intriguing nesting fringillidae that add beauty to Lancaster County cropland, a human-made habitat they adapted to. The birds, of course, benefit from an increase in nest sites and populations. And we aesthetically benefit from their beauties, songs and activities.
Immediately, while driving along, I thought of the male indigos I saw along tall cornfields at this time of year in past years. I call them indigo corn buntings because of their perching on corn stalks and singing as they would on nesting territories in hedgerows and woodland edges. Maybe these males, probably post-breeding indigos consider the tall corn fields to be a kind of woodland, and they live and sing beautifully on the margins of them, while their mates and young grow fat and strong by eating invertebrates along real thickets of trees and bushes.
Adult male indigo buntings are pretty in summer. They are blue all over, while females and young are plain brown. But the males molt late in summer and are brown on their wintering grounds in Central America during northern winters. But by early May, indigos are back in the eastern United States ready to raise young in thickets along woodland edges, hedgerows, stream margins and roadsides.
Fringillidae are seed-eating birds, which includes sparrows, finches, grosbeaks and buntings. The species in this writing are colorful ones that nest in Lancaster County cropland. All species have large beaks for cracking seeds open. And they all also consume a variety of invertebrates during warmer months while raising youngsters.
The attractive male blue grosbeaks are larger than the sparrow-sized indigos and dark-blue all over, with two vertical, brown bars on each wing. Females and young are brown with darker-brown wing bars. Blue grosbeaks raise young in thickets similar to the habitats that indigos rear offspring in. Male blue grosbeaks sing sweet songs when perched on twigs and roadside wires. And this species, too, goes south for the winter.
The beautiful male American goldfinches are bright-yellow with black wings and tails and jaunty black caps on their foreheads. Females and young of this species are olive above and faint-yellow below, which camouflages them.
Goldfinches are vegetarians for the most part, feeding on alga from small brooks and seeds, especially thistle seeds, when those seeds mature in mid-summer. It's particularly interesting to see these colorful, little birds pecking at alga on streamside rocks and swaying among the blue blooms of chicory and the pink blossoms of thistle plants while ingesting the seeds of those plants, and others.
Female goldfinches delay nesting until July because they wait for thistle plants to go to seed. They use thistle fluff, along with fine grass and spider webbing to create cup cradles for their young in small trees and larger shrubbery in fields, meadows and suburban lawns near patches of thistles. And they feed pre-digested seeds, including those of thistles, to their young in their nurseries.
House finches are the only permanent resident species in this grouping. They hatch young in shrubbery in hedgerows, and in bushes and young arborvitae trees on city and suburban lawns. Males are light-gray, streaked and patched with pink on their heads, chests, wings and tails. Females and young are feathered the same, but without the pink.
Originally from the American west, house finches got east as cage birds that were released, found each other and raised young several years ago. Now they have small colonies all over the east. Males sing pretty songs early in spring, that are particularly appreciated in suburban areas, and each pair might raise up to three broods a season. In winter, this species may come to feed at bird feeders.
Dickcissels are mid-western, sparrow-like birds. Males are brown and streaked on top, and have black bibs and yellow chests. Females and young are plain brown and streaked only, like sparrows.
Many dickcissels annually come east, including into Lancaster County, apparently in slightly increasing numbers each year, to nest in hedgerows, weedy patches and the edges of grain fields. Males perch on twigs and roadside wires and sing their name "dick, dick, dick-sis,sis,sis,sis, sis" to establish nesting territories and attract mates.
These are pretty, intriguing nesting fringillidae that add beauty to Lancaster County cropland, a human-made habitat they adapted to. The birds, of course, benefit from an increase in nest sites and populations. And we aesthetically benefit from their beauties, songs and activities.
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