Most every niche on Earth is occupied by some living being, plant or animal. And, I am sure, there are occupied niches we humans don't know about, yet. And there will be niches in the future that don't exist yet, but will be by some plant or animal when those habitats are present. The larvae of two kinds of flies in North America are examples of animals using niches that we can't imagine until we become aware of them. One species of fly is the goldenrod gall fly and the other is the Canada thistle gall fly. The larvae of both species of flies create galls, or swellings, in the tissues of their plant hosts that they are named after. There they live, eating the tissues of those plants until they pupate and emerge as adult flies.
Goldenrod plants stand up to five feet high and have pretty clusters of tiny, golden flowers at the top of their stems by August and into autumn. Some goldenrod stems have round or elliptical, green swellings called galls in summer. Turning brown when their plant tissues die in fall, those galls are caused by the larvae of goldenrod gall flies. Those larvae, which are protected in the galls, eat the tissues in them, hollowing them out.
Goldenrod gall flies are native to most of the United States. In spring, adult male goldenrod flies emerge from their galls, followed a bit later by female goldenrod flies. Small, brown flies that blend into their surroundings, males and females pair off and mate. Then females use their ovipositors, located on the ends of their abdomens, to insert fertilized eggs into goldenrod plant tissues near the developing buds of growing goldenrod plants.
In a few days the goldenrod larvae hatch and eat their way to the bases of goldenrod leaf buds, which induces the tissues to form into bulbous chambers, each about the size of a purple Concord grape- the gall, with a hardened covering. One larva lives in each gall, which provides the small, white grub with shelter, food and liquid for the summer, into fall.
Some of the larvae of goldenrod flies are eaten while they are at home in their galls. Downy woodpeckers and at least two kinds of chickadees have learned to chip into galls to extract the grub inside and eat it. The larvae of a couple of kinds of parasitic wasps, deposited as eggs in goldenrod galls by their mothers, also consume goldenrod gall fly larvae.
By mid-September, each goldenrod gall fly larva instinctively chews a tunnel through its gall almost to the outside. They must do that as larvae when they have the bodily equipment and strength to make that burrow. Upon finishing its tunnel, each larva settles down to being a brown pupa, the stage in which it overwinters.
During winter in its gall, each goldenrod fly larva accumulates sorbitol and glycerol in its tissues which protects it from freezing. And freezing temperatures allow the cold-blooded larvae to conserve their energy.
In the warmth of the following spring, each pupa develops into an adult fly, crawls out the tunnel it created the autumn before, and pushes through the extremely thin wall of its gall to the outside world. There it finds a mate and another generation of goldenrod gall flies is born.
Canada thistle gall flies are originally from Europe where their larvae feed on the tissues in elliptical galls of their own making on Canada thistle stems. This kind of fly was introduced to North America to control the growth and spread of its host, the invasive Canada thistles. A kind of fruit fly, Canada thistle flies are pretty, little critters with black thoraxes and abdomens, and white wings, with black patterns on each one.
Female Canada thistle flies lay eggs on Canada thistle stems during warmer months. The larvae hatch and burrow into the stems where they form the galls they live and dine in.
The larvae overwinter in those galls and are reddish-brown pupae early the next spring when still in their galls. The adult flies emerge from their galls to the outside world, via each one's tunnel, from June to October. The flies mate and the females place eggs into Canada thistle stems where they hatch into another generation of Canada thistle larvae.
These are just two of the innumerable ways that life survives on Earth. Each species adapts to specific conditions; its niche.
Friday, September 29, 2017
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
Lancaster County Grasshoppers
Late summer into autumn is the time of the year to see a variety of common, interesting grasshoppers in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, as elsewhere. They live in meadows and fields, but are most evident among tall grasses and weeds along rural roadsides. Roadside shoulders may get mowed occasionally, but not plowed, allowing grasshoppers, and other creatures, a place free of agricultural activities, a place where they can live and reproduce in peace in cultivated farmland.
I see many grasshoppers of up to seven attractive kinds leap away from me as I walk along the edges of overgrown, grassy country roads in this area's croplands. They have good enough vision and jumping legs to give them a chance of staying out of harm's way. The seven include differential, spur-throated, red-legged, meadow, banded-winged, cone-headed and gladiator katydids. These grasshoppers are another representative of late summer and fall because they are now big enough to easily see as they jump away from potential danger.
Differential grasshoppers are up to an inch and a half long, mostly green-gray all over and have a black herring-bone pattern on each upper back leg. In fall, some of these large grasshoppers sit on the blacktop of country roads where they are visible, but where a few of them get squashed by passing vehicles.
Spur-throated grasshoppers are one and a quarter inches long and resemble differentials, except spur-throats are yellowish-green. This species also has herring-bone patterns on the upper parts of their hind legs.
Red-legged grasshoppers are about one inch long and have dull-red on the thin, lower parts of their back legs. This species often seems to be the most common one here in Lancaster County; the most visible at any rate.
Meadow grasshoppers are about an inch long and green for the most part, which blends them into the green grass they ingest. This type of grasshopper is usually heard before it is seen. Males use their wings to alternately produce a pleasant, accelerating trill, followed by several clicks, then more trills and clicks.
Banded-winged grasshoppers are roughly an inch and a half long and mostly light-brown, which camouflages them on soil sparsely covered with vegetation. Males of this species are dramatically visible when they flutter noisily on their black, yellow-edged wings above the plant cover for a few seconds. They expose themselves in that way to advertise their presence to attract females of their kind to them for mating. That publicity is dangerous when predators, including American kestrels and wild turkeys, are nearby.
I call cone-headed grasshoppers "shakers" because their pulsing, raspy stridulations sound like they are being shaken from the males producing them. Coneheads are green all over, which camouflages them in the green grass they consume. And these one and a quarter inch grasshoppers have pointed, cone-shaped heads which gives them their common name.
Another kind of grassland grasshopper, called gladiator katydids, is one and a quarter inches long and mostly green, which camouflages them in the grass they ingest. This species, too, produces alternate trills and clicks.
Late in spring, these various kinds of grasshoppers hatch from eggs laid in the ground by their mothers the autumn before. When hatched, they look like tiny replicas of their parents. They grow through summer and mature early in autumn. Mated females of the year use their ovipositors that extend from the ends of their abdomens to lay another generation of eggs in the ground in fall. All grasshoppers in this area later die during heavy frosts late in October. But the eggs overwinter in the soil and produce the next generation of grasshoppers in the warmth of the next spring.
All these grasshopper species blend into the grassy habitats they eat. Being camouflaged hides them from birds and other kinds of daytime predators. But many grasshoppers are eaten by a variety of predators anyway, particularly at night, including striped skunks, red foxes, short-tailed shrews, two kinds of toads, a few kinds of harmless snakes and a variety of other species. Female grasshoppers, however, make up for losses by laying scores to hundreds of eggs, depending on the species.
Grass-eating grasshopper species help make fields, meadows and country roadsides in Lancaster County farmland in summer and fall more interesting. And they feed numerous and equally intriguing wildlife. Get out and walk along quiet country roads to see some of these grasshoppers, and other kinds of wildlife as well.
I see many grasshoppers of up to seven attractive kinds leap away from me as I walk along the edges of overgrown, grassy country roads in this area's croplands. They have good enough vision and jumping legs to give them a chance of staying out of harm's way. The seven include differential, spur-throated, red-legged, meadow, banded-winged, cone-headed and gladiator katydids. These grasshoppers are another representative of late summer and fall because they are now big enough to easily see as they jump away from potential danger.
Differential grasshoppers are up to an inch and a half long, mostly green-gray all over and have a black herring-bone pattern on each upper back leg. In fall, some of these large grasshoppers sit on the blacktop of country roads where they are visible, but where a few of them get squashed by passing vehicles.
Spur-throated grasshoppers are one and a quarter inches long and resemble differentials, except spur-throats are yellowish-green. This species also has herring-bone patterns on the upper parts of their hind legs.
Red-legged grasshoppers are about one inch long and have dull-red on the thin, lower parts of their back legs. This species often seems to be the most common one here in Lancaster County; the most visible at any rate.
Meadow grasshoppers are about an inch long and green for the most part, which blends them into the green grass they ingest. This type of grasshopper is usually heard before it is seen. Males use their wings to alternately produce a pleasant, accelerating trill, followed by several clicks, then more trills and clicks.
Banded-winged grasshoppers are roughly an inch and a half long and mostly light-brown, which camouflages them on soil sparsely covered with vegetation. Males of this species are dramatically visible when they flutter noisily on their black, yellow-edged wings above the plant cover for a few seconds. They expose themselves in that way to advertise their presence to attract females of their kind to them for mating. That publicity is dangerous when predators, including American kestrels and wild turkeys, are nearby.
I call cone-headed grasshoppers "shakers" because their pulsing, raspy stridulations sound like they are being shaken from the males producing them. Coneheads are green all over, which camouflages them in the green grass they consume. And these one and a quarter inch grasshoppers have pointed, cone-shaped heads which gives them their common name.
Another kind of grassland grasshopper, called gladiator katydids, is one and a quarter inches long and mostly green, which camouflages them in the grass they ingest. This species, too, produces alternate trills and clicks.
Late in spring, these various kinds of grasshoppers hatch from eggs laid in the ground by their mothers the autumn before. When hatched, they look like tiny replicas of their parents. They grow through summer and mature early in autumn. Mated females of the year use their ovipositors that extend from the ends of their abdomens to lay another generation of eggs in the ground in fall. All grasshoppers in this area later die during heavy frosts late in October. But the eggs overwinter in the soil and produce the next generation of grasshoppers in the warmth of the next spring.
All these grasshopper species blend into the grassy habitats they eat. Being camouflaged hides them from birds and other kinds of daytime predators. But many grasshoppers are eaten by a variety of predators anyway, particularly at night, including striped skunks, red foxes, short-tailed shrews, two kinds of toads, a few kinds of harmless snakes and a variety of other species. Female grasshoppers, however, make up for losses by laying scores to hundreds of eggs, depending on the species.
Grass-eating grasshopper species help make fields, meadows and country roadsides in Lancaster County farmland in summer and fall more interesting. And they feed numerous and equally intriguing wildlife. Get out and walk along quiet country roads to see some of these grasshoppers, and other kinds of wildlife as well.
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Insect Fiddlers
Late summer and fall are the best times to experience insects in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, including five common kinds of crickets. Those five fiddling species include spring field crickets, fall field crickets, spotted camel crickets, mole crickets and snowy tree crickets.
Males of each cricket species create chirps or trills, according to its kind, that are symbolic of autumn, and bring the genders of each species together for mating. The courtship sounds those crickets make are caused by the males' rubbing rough parts of their wings and/or legs together, again depending on the species. That stridulation causes friction, which creates the sound we hear from the crickets. And that fiddling identifies each kind of cricket. But the male crickets' seemingly unending, rhythmic plucking or trilling makes them vulnerable to predators, including skunks, toads, shrews, garter snakes and a variety of birds, including wild turkeys.
Crickets are related to grasshoppers and katydids, and have body shapes like those relatives, including the large pair of back legs used for jumping. But unlike grasshoppers and katydids, crickets are almost always under cover, hiding from those critters that would eat them. A person must poke through grass and turn over rocks and logs to find most types of crickets.
Crickets also blend into their surroundings, making them invisible until they move. Those on soil and under logs are dark or spotted brown. Those among foliage are green, which enables them to disappear among the leaves when those insects are still.
Spring field crickets and fall field crickets resemble each other. But spring crickets winter as nymphs, emerging in spring as adults and chirp by late May through much of summer when they lay eggs in the ground. And fall crickets winter as eggs, hatch from those eggs in spring, mature during summer and stridulate and lay eggs by late July, into autumn. Having different strategies for survival in families of life is good because if one fails the other may be successful, keeping that family of life going into the future.
These two kinds of field crickets are abundant at the bases of grasses in meadows and rural roadsides where they create endless, musical chirping. And occasionally they can be spotted leaping across country roads, when they are particularly vulnerable to predators.
Spotted camel crickets are called that because they have humped top-sides. This species is light-brown, spotted with beige. They hide by day under logs, rocks and dead-leaf blankets on woodland floors, and leave their shelters at night to look for vegetable food. But they make no sounds, perhaps because they huddle together under objects during each day where they have constant, quick access to each other without stridulating, which could give away their presence to predators.
Mole crickets are unusual. Built much like moles, they live in burrows they dig in the soft, damp soil of meadows. They are brown, have strong, thick, shovel-like front legs and small, non-leaping back ones. They can't jump in a burrow anyway. This kind of cricket even has short, fine "hair". But they are cold-blooded, as all insects are, and only an inch and a quarter long. Males emit a succession of growling chirps that sound much like the hoarse croaking of frogs. And because they live in dens in the ground, I hear far more of them than I ever see.
Snowy tree crickets are three-quarters of an inch long, pale-green and have long, transparent wings. They live camouflaged on green shrubbery in deciduous woods, and lawns with older trees and bushes. Also called temperature crickets, males' fiddling seemingly is unending series of chirps that increase in pace as temperatures rise and decrease as temperatures fall. That occurs because of the insects' being cold-blooded.
Though they hide and are seldom seen, these common kinds of crickets are heard often during summer and autumn. They are a pleasant part of fauna here in Lancaster County.
Males of each cricket species create chirps or trills, according to its kind, that are symbolic of autumn, and bring the genders of each species together for mating. The courtship sounds those crickets make are caused by the males' rubbing rough parts of their wings and/or legs together, again depending on the species. That stridulation causes friction, which creates the sound we hear from the crickets. And that fiddling identifies each kind of cricket. But the male crickets' seemingly unending, rhythmic plucking or trilling makes them vulnerable to predators, including skunks, toads, shrews, garter snakes and a variety of birds, including wild turkeys.
Crickets are related to grasshoppers and katydids, and have body shapes like those relatives, including the large pair of back legs used for jumping. But unlike grasshoppers and katydids, crickets are almost always under cover, hiding from those critters that would eat them. A person must poke through grass and turn over rocks and logs to find most types of crickets.
Crickets also blend into their surroundings, making them invisible until they move. Those on soil and under logs are dark or spotted brown. Those among foliage are green, which enables them to disappear among the leaves when those insects are still.
Spring field crickets and fall field crickets resemble each other. But spring crickets winter as nymphs, emerging in spring as adults and chirp by late May through much of summer when they lay eggs in the ground. And fall crickets winter as eggs, hatch from those eggs in spring, mature during summer and stridulate and lay eggs by late July, into autumn. Having different strategies for survival in families of life is good because if one fails the other may be successful, keeping that family of life going into the future.
These two kinds of field crickets are abundant at the bases of grasses in meadows and rural roadsides where they create endless, musical chirping. And occasionally they can be spotted leaping across country roads, when they are particularly vulnerable to predators.
Spotted camel crickets are called that because they have humped top-sides. This species is light-brown, spotted with beige. They hide by day under logs, rocks and dead-leaf blankets on woodland floors, and leave their shelters at night to look for vegetable food. But they make no sounds, perhaps because they huddle together under objects during each day where they have constant, quick access to each other without stridulating, which could give away their presence to predators.
Mole crickets are unusual. Built much like moles, they live in burrows they dig in the soft, damp soil of meadows. They are brown, have strong, thick, shovel-like front legs and small, non-leaping back ones. They can't jump in a burrow anyway. This kind of cricket even has short, fine "hair". But they are cold-blooded, as all insects are, and only an inch and a quarter long. Males emit a succession of growling chirps that sound much like the hoarse croaking of frogs. And because they live in dens in the ground, I hear far more of them than I ever see.
Snowy tree crickets are three-quarters of an inch long, pale-green and have long, transparent wings. They live camouflaged on green shrubbery in deciduous woods, and lawns with older trees and bushes. Also called temperature crickets, males' fiddling seemingly is unending series of chirps that increase in pace as temperatures rise and decrease as temperatures fall. That occurs because of the insects' being cold-blooded.
Though they hide and are seldom seen, these common kinds of crickets are heard often during summer and autumn. They are a pleasant part of fauna here in Lancaster County.
Friday, September 22, 2017
Jerusalem Artichokes
On September 21 of this year, the eve of the autumn equinox, I visited several wild strips of Jerusalem artichokes in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland. Those plants are not related to artichokes, but are a type of sunflower native to North America from southern Canada south to northern Florida and Texas. Some rows of Jerusalem artichokes I saw had only a few plants, but others were up to a hundred yards of this tall sunflower with strikingly beautiful, bright-yellow flowers. And everywhere in Lancaster County, this stately, wild sunflower species represents fall, cropland and the American Indians who once raised them to eat their underground, nutritious tubers. The perennial Jerusalem artichokes stand up to ten feet tall and have large, rough leaves and several golden blooms on top of each plant. Those sky-reaching stalks sway and bob gracefully in the wind. Each flower is about three inches across and has ten to twenty rays. Hundreds or thousands of blossoms blooming together in a stand of themselves brighten the habitats where they grew. Along with orange pumpkins and stacked corn stalks in the fields, this type of sunflower helps decorate the mundane cropland their stalks sprouted in.
Jerusalem artichokes grow along hedgerows between fields, particularly along the edges of the tall field corn. And they have stands along country roadsides that may get mowed once in awhile, but never cultivated. Each plant grows all summer, blooms for three weeks, from the second week in September to the end of that fall month here in Lancaster County. Then each plant dies, except for its underground roots and tubers.
On September 21, I came to a patch of Jerusalem artichokes on the edge of a successional woodlot along the rural road I was driving on. I could drive right up to that patch of sunflowers in full bloom, which was, at the time, in the shade of young ash-leafed, black walnut, black locust, mulberry and hackberry trees. Some goldenrod and white asters were also in bloom in this stand of sunflowers. I sat in the shade of those trees for about an hour and watched several kinds of insects visiting Jerusalem artichoke flowers. All the rows of this wild sunflower I saw had insects among their blossoms, but this stand had more insects than any of the rest and I was able to see those little creatures more up-close than at any other patch of Jerusalem artichokes.
The insects flew vigorously from bloom to bloom, providing a lively show and adding their beauties and intrigues to that of the Jerusalem artichoke blossoms. Honey bees, bumble bees and carpenter bees were all there in limited numbers. And there was a small variety of pretty butterflies, including cabbage whites, yellow sulphurs, meadow fritillaries, a few painted ladies, one migrant monarch and lots of little, dark skippers of some species I couldn't identify. Those lively, abundant skippers dominated the sunflower blooms the whole time I was among them. They, themselves were quite a show.
Jerusalem artichokes' beacons of golden light, mounted on their own tall, green towers, surely brighten Lancaster County cropland. Each large and decorative flower, in itself, was striking. And the many kinds of interesting insects added to the overall show that make this farmland wild plant so interesting to observe.
Jerusalem artichokes grow along hedgerows between fields, particularly along the edges of the tall field corn. And they have stands along country roadsides that may get mowed once in awhile, but never cultivated. Each plant grows all summer, blooms for three weeks, from the second week in September to the end of that fall month here in Lancaster County. Then each plant dies, except for its underground roots and tubers.
On September 21, I came to a patch of Jerusalem artichokes on the edge of a successional woodlot along the rural road I was driving on. I could drive right up to that patch of sunflowers in full bloom, which was, at the time, in the shade of young ash-leafed, black walnut, black locust, mulberry and hackberry trees. Some goldenrod and white asters were also in bloom in this stand of sunflowers. I sat in the shade of those trees for about an hour and watched several kinds of insects visiting Jerusalem artichoke flowers. All the rows of this wild sunflower I saw had insects among their blossoms, but this stand had more insects than any of the rest and I was able to see those little creatures more up-close than at any other patch of Jerusalem artichokes.
The insects flew vigorously from bloom to bloom, providing a lively show and adding their beauties and intrigues to that of the Jerusalem artichoke blossoms. Honey bees, bumble bees and carpenter bees were all there in limited numbers. And there was a small variety of pretty butterflies, including cabbage whites, yellow sulphurs, meadow fritillaries, a few painted ladies, one migrant monarch and lots of little, dark skippers of some species I couldn't identify. Those lively, abundant skippers dominated the sunflower blooms the whole time I was among them. They, themselves were quite a show.
Jerusalem artichokes' beacons of golden light, mounted on their own tall, green towers, surely brighten Lancaster County cropland. Each large and decorative flower, in itself, was striking. And the many kinds of interesting insects added to the overall show that make this farmland wild plant so interesting to observe.
Monday, September 18, 2017
Autumn Breeders
Here in the Mid-Atlantic States we think of wildlife reproducing in spring and summer, and most species do. But some kinds of local wildlife breed in autumn, including true katydids, mole crickets, white-tailed deer, elk, brook trout and marbled salamanders. These interesting creatures add more intrigue and excitement to fall each year.
True katydids are green, "treetop grasshoppers" that blend well into their food and cover of woodland treetop foliage. They even have wings that resemble green leaves, which completes their camouflage against birds and other critters that would eat them.
Katydids rub a file on one wing against a scraper on another wing to produce the raspy argument of whether Katy did or didn't from the end of July through to a heavy frost in October that kills those treetop fiddlers. That rhythmic scratching brings the genders together for mating, after which the females deposit eggs in slits they make in tender bark. The eggs overwinter in those slits. Nymphs emerge from those eggs the next spring, consume tree leaves and grow to be adult katydids by late July ready to fiddle.
Mole crickets are an unusual kind of cricket. They are about an inch and a quarter long, stout, brown, have large, shovel-shaped front legs and live in burrows they dig themselves in damp pastures. They have small back legs, but can't jump in their burrows anyway, so those legs never developed for leaping. They eat grass roots and other underground vegetation.
In September, male mole crickets chirp loudly, seemingly incessantly, from their burrows, the reason they are clearly heard, but seldom seen. And their calls sound much like the croaking of frogs. Each female mates with a male then lays eggs in the back of her burrow, where they overwinter and hatch the next spring.
White-tailed deer rut from late October, through November and into early December. Majestic bucks of equal size press their bone antlers together to ritually push each other to determine which one is stronger. The stronger buck gets most of the girls, and produces quality fawns. White-tails' time of rut causes fawns to be born about the end of May, when there is much food for their mothers' to produce milk and lots of cover for the fawns to lie in, hidden from predators.
American elk in Pennsylvania rut during September. The magnificent bulls squeal loud challenges to one another, and they, too, push bony antlers together to determine the strength of the contestants. The winners produce hardy, strong calves by the end of May. Elk breed earlier in autumn than white-tails because their calves are bigger than fawns and need a longer gestation period.
Brook trout spawn in flowing brooks and streams during October in this area. At that time, small, running waterways in deciduous woods are roofed by the red, orange and yellow leaves of autumn, making those woods beautiful.
Adult, breeding trout are also quite striking. Stream-lined for life in unending currents, their upperparts and flanks are dark with yellow markings, and a few blue-bordered red spots on the flanks. And they have reddish-orange fins with black-bordered, white leading edges which are their most prominent features.
Brook trout spawn on the stony bottoms of streams and brooks and females bury their fertilized eggs with gravel they swish over the eggs with their tails. The growing young are camouflaged against waterway bottoms. Trout of all ages ingest a variety of invertebrates and small fish.
The attractive marbled salamanders are four inches long when mature, stout, black and silver members of the mole salamander family in the eastern United States. They are called mole salamanders because they spend most of their lives hunting invertebrates at night under logs, forest floor leaf cover and shallow burrows in moist soil in the woods.
Each adult female marbled salamander lays her 30 to 100 eggs under a fallen log or dead-leaf litter in a depression on a forest floor in a bottomland woods on a rainy night in September or October. She then stays in that sheltered place with her eggs until they hatch. But if rains don't come in fall, the eggs can over-winter in the sheltering spot where they were spawned and hatch the next spring when rain and snow melt fill that depression.
All these wonderful, intriguing critters add more enjoyment of autumn, when they are spotted. But they have to be looked for in their habitats.
True katydids are green, "treetop grasshoppers" that blend well into their food and cover of woodland treetop foliage. They even have wings that resemble green leaves, which completes their camouflage against birds and other critters that would eat them.
Katydids rub a file on one wing against a scraper on another wing to produce the raspy argument of whether Katy did or didn't from the end of July through to a heavy frost in October that kills those treetop fiddlers. That rhythmic scratching brings the genders together for mating, after which the females deposit eggs in slits they make in tender bark. The eggs overwinter in those slits. Nymphs emerge from those eggs the next spring, consume tree leaves and grow to be adult katydids by late July ready to fiddle.
Mole crickets are an unusual kind of cricket. They are about an inch and a quarter long, stout, brown, have large, shovel-shaped front legs and live in burrows they dig themselves in damp pastures. They have small back legs, but can't jump in their burrows anyway, so those legs never developed for leaping. They eat grass roots and other underground vegetation.
In September, male mole crickets chirp loudly, seemingly incessantly, from their burrows, the reason they are clearly heard, but seldom seen. And their calls sound much like the croaking of frogs. Each female mates with a male then lays eggs in the back of her burrow, where they overwinter and hatch the next spring.
White-tailed deer rut from late October, through November and into early December. Majestic bucks of equal size press their bone antlers together to ritually push each other to determine which one is stronger. The stronger buck gets most of the girls, and produces quality fawns. White-tails' time of rut causes fawns to be born about the end of May, when there is much food for their mothers' to produce milk and lots of cover for the fawns to lie in, hidden from predators.
American elk in Pennsylvania rut during September. The magnificent bulls squeal loud challenges to one another, and they, too, push bony antlers together to determine the strength of the contestants. The winners produce hardy, strong calves by the end of May. Elk breed earlier in autumn than white-tails because their calves are bigger than fawns and need a longer gestation period.
Brook trout spawn in flowing brooks and streams during October in this area. At that time, small, running waterways in deciduous woods are roofed by the red, orange and yellow leaves of autumn, making those woods beautiful.
Adult, breeding trout are also quite striking. Stream-lined for life in unending currents, their upperparts and flanks are dark with yellow markings, and a few blue-bordered red spots on the flanks. And they have reddish-orange fins with black-bordered, white leading edges which are their most prominent features.
Brook trout spawn on the stony bottoms of streams and brooks and females bury their fertilized eggs with gravel they swish over the eggs with their tails. The growing young are camouflaged against waterway bottoms. Trout of all ages ingest a variety of invertebrates and small fish.
The attractive marbled salamanders are four inches long when mature, stout, black and silver members of the mole salamander family in the eastern United States. They are called mole salamanders because they spend most of their lives hunting invertebrates at night under logs, forest floor leaf cover and shallow burrows in moist soil in the woods.
Each adult female marbled salamander lays her 30 to 100 eggs under a fallen log or dead-leaf litter in a depression on a forest floor in a bottomland woods on a rainy night in September or October. She then stays in that sheltered place with her eggs until they hatch. But if rains don't come in fall, the eggs can over-winter in the sheltering spot where they were spawned and hatch the next spring when rain and snow melt fill that depression.
All these wonderful, intriguing critters add more enjoyment of autumn, when they are spotted. But they have to be looked for in their habitats.
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Common, Migrant Sandpipers
Most of us think of sandpipers being on beaches along the seacoast, and some species are there to feed on invertebrates in every season. But many kinds of sandpipers are also in coastal salt marshes when the tide is out and along the muddy shores of inland waterways and impoundments to consume invertebrates, particularly during their migrations north in spring and south in late-summer into autumn. And two species of sandpipers, least sandpipers and lesser yellowlegs, are the most common of their large family of shorebirds in southeastern Pennsylvania during their trips south to escape the northern winter.
Coming south from nesting territories in Canada and Alaska, many individuals of least sandpipers and lesser yellowlegs pass through this area every late-summer and fall. They don't leave northern latitudes to escape frigid temperatures, but do so to find reliable sources of invertebrates in shoreline mud and shallow water in Central America, South America and the Caribbean area. But they have to stop on their way, now and again, to fill up on invertebrates to have the energy to continue their migrations south. Various-sized flocks of both species stop along the muddy edges of waterways and impoundments, but mostly in flooded fields and meadows after heavy or prolonged rains. Land-based invertebrates emerge from the inundated ground to avoid drowning, but many of them are eaten by these two common types of sandpipers, other kinds of shorebirds in lesser numbers, and other species of birds, including American robins, mallard ducks and starlings.
The brown least sandpipers and gray lesser yellowlegs, like most species in their family, blend into their open niches almost perfectly. In spite of a total lack of cover to hide behind, these species usually are not seen until they move across the ground or water, or take flight. Camouflage is essential for them so they are not spotted by fast-flying peregrine falcons, merlins and other kinds of hawks that would attempt to kill them to eat, if they saw them. But shorebirds, including least sandpipers and yellowlegs, are also speedy on the wing, swerving this way and that as a group, which confuses hawks and allows the shorebirds to dash to camouflaged safety on another muddy shore or flooded field.
Sparrow-sized least sandpipers are brown with darker streaking which camouflages them on muddy shorelines. They have dull-yellow legs which identify them from other kinds of small, brown sandpipers. Least sandpipers walk about together in varying-sized flocks on the mud and in inch-deep water to use their beaks to pull tiny worms and insects from the mud, even that which is under water.
Least sandpipers raise young on the ground in the treeless Arctic tundra. Each female lays four eggs in a clutch that hatch into open-eyed, fluffy, camouflaged chicks that are ready to run and feed themselves within hours of hatching. That camouflage protects the young, and their parents, from predators including Arctic foxes, gulls and jaegers.
Lesser yellowlegs are about the size of American robins, but leaner in shape. This kind of sandpiper stands on long, yellow "stilts". Yellowlegs are mostly gray with white speckles which blends them into the water they wade through to probe for aquatic invertebrates with their long, slender bills. Their long legs get them into deeper water than what least sandpipers can handle. And the yellowlegs' lengthier beaks allow them to probe deeper into mud than the least sandpipers can. Therefore, the different bodily features allow each species to exploit a slightly different niche, which reduces competition for food between them.
Each pair of lesser yellowlegs raises four young in a brood around ponds and bogs in the boreal forests of northwestern Canada and eastern Alaska. And they winter in wetlands from the central latitude of the United States south to southern South America.
I enjoy seeing flocks of least sandpipers and lesser yellowlegs on the muddy shores of waterways and impoundments, and especially in flooded fields and pastures in southeastern Pennsylvania late in summer and into autumn. Those interesting sandpiper flocks in this civilized area, like all migrant birds, are ambassadors to much of the world. And it's intriguing to see these northern, wilderness shorebirds using inland, human-made niches such as impoundments and inundated fields and meadows while on migration. Their adapting to those built habitats increases their populations and our outdoor pleasure.
Coming south from nesting territories in Canada and Alaska, many individuals of least sandpipers and lesser yellowlegs pass through this area every late-summer and fall. They don't leave northern latitudes to escape frigid temperatures, but do so to find reliable sources of invertebrates in shoreline mud and shallow water in Central America, South America and the Caribbean area. But they have to stop on their way, now and again, to fill up on invertebrates to have the energy to continue their migrations south. Various-sized flocks of both species stop along the muddy edges of waterways and impoundments, but mostly in flooded fields and meadows after heavy or prolonged rains. Land-based invertebrates emerge from the inundated ground to avoid drowning, but many of them are eaten by these two common types of sandpipers, other kinds of shorebirds in lesser numbers, and other species of birds, including American robins, mallard ducks and starlings.
The brown least sandpipers and gray lesser yellowlegs, like most species in their family, blend into their open niches almost perfectly. In spite of a total lack of cover to hide behind, these species usually are not seen until they move across the ground or water, or take flight. Camouflage is essential for them so they are not spotted by fast-flying peregrine falcons, merlins and other kinds of hawks that would attempt to kill them to eat, if they saw them. But shorebirds, including least sandpipers and yellowlegs, are also speedy on the wing, swerving this way and that as a group, which confuses hawks and allows the shorebirds to dash to camouflaged safety on another muddy shore or flooded field.
Sparrow-sized least sandpipers are brown with darker streaking which camouflages them on muddy shorelines. They have dull-yellow legs which identify them from other kinds of small, brown sandpipers. Least sandpipers walk about together in varying-sized flocks on the mud and in inch-deep water to use their beaks to pull tiny worms and insects from the mud, even that which is under water.
Least sandpipers raise young on the ground in the treeless Arctic tundra. Each female lays four eggs in a clutch that hatch into open-eyed, fluffy, camouflaged chicks that are ready to run and feed themselves within hours of hatching. That camouflage protects the young, and their parents, from predators including Arctic foxes, gulls and jaegers.
Lesser yellowlegs are about the size of American robins, but leaner in shape. This kind of sandpiper stands on long, yellow "stilts". Yellowlegs are mostly gray with white speckles which blends them into the water they wade through to probe for aquatic invertebrates with their long, slender bills. Their long legs get them into deeper water than what least sandpipers can handle. And the yellowlegs' lengthier beaks allow them to probe deeper into mud than the least sandpipers can. Therefore, the different bodily features allow each species to exploit a slightly different niche, which reduces competition for food between them.
Each pair of lesser yellowlegs raises four young in a brood around ponds and bogs in the boreal forests of northwestern Canada and eastern Alaska. And they winter in wetlands from the central latitude of the United States south to southern South America.
I enjoy seeing flocks of least sandpipers and lesser yellowlegs on the muddy shores of waterways and impoundments, and especially in flooded fields and pastures in southeastern Pennsylvania late in summer and into autumn. Those interesting sandpiper flocks in this civilized area, like all migrant birds, are ambassadors to much of the world. And it's intriguing to see these northern, wilderness shorebirds using inland, human-made niches such as impoundments and inundated fields and meadows while on migration. Their adapting to those built habitats increases their populations and our outdoor pleasure.
Monday, September 11, 2017
Fish-eaters at Perryville
On September 1, 2016, as I have done before, I went to the public park at Stump Point, where the Susquehanna River flows into the top of the Chesapeake Bay, near Perryville, Maryland to see what fish-eating birds were there. I didn't notice a big variety of birds, but I did see several individuals of a few fish-eating species, including around 12 bald eagles, a dozen great blue herons, 16 or more Forster's terns, eight double-crested cormorants and several ring-billed gulls. I also saw a half-dozen great egrets, two Caspian terns and one osprey. All those birds of various species were interesting and entertaining to watch as they went about their daily business of getting food and resting and digesting. And they were all post-breeding species gathering on the Chesapeake to prepare for the coming winter by gaining strength and fat reserves, as they do every autumn.
Watching those fish-eating birds for a couple of hours, I thought about how each species catches its finny prey in various ways, and in different parts of the larger bodies of water they fish in. That diversity of snaring victims reduces competition among them for food. The big, magnificent bald eagles take larger fish from the surface of deeper water by swooping down and grabbing their prey with their long, curved talons from the surface, without entering the water, then pumping strongly to a boulder or tree to consume their catch, sometimes surrounded by crows and vultures who want a share of the spoils.
The elegant ospreys hover into the wind while watching the surface of larger waters for prey. When a larger fish is spotted, each osprey drops to the water and plunges into it, feet first, while grasping its victim in its sharp claws. Each osprey then uses its powerful wings to pull itself out of the water, often with a fish in its talons and powers away to a tree to ingest it.
Interestingly, ospreys seem to be most common where bald eagles are uncommon. There is some direct competition between those species for food. And eagles are bigger and stronger than ospreys and often rob ospreys of the fish they caught.
All members of the stately heron/egret family have long legs for wading in shallow water while hunting fish of various sizes, depending on the size of each bird species. Each member of this majestic family reaches out with lengthy neck and beak to seize fish from the shallows. Their fishing in shallow water reduces rivalry with eagles and ospreys that usually pick up fish from deeper water.
The petite Forster's terns and the bulky, gull-sized Caspian terns with blood red bills fly briskly on long, swept-back wings over the water, hover into the wind momentarily, then dive beak-first into deeper water to seize small fish in their sharp bills. They swallow their victims in mid-air while watching for more. Obviously, terns don't rival eagles and ospreys for larger fish and they don't compete with herons for fish in the shallows.
Double-crested cormorants float like ducks on the water's surface and dive underwater from the surface to catch small fish. They don't compete with eagles and ospreys because they catch little fish. And they don't rival herons or terns by catching their prey in water deeper than those other fish-eating species can manage.
The adaptable and abundant ring-billed gulls catch smaller fish in the shallows and the surfaces of deeper water where they compete with other fish-eating birds to an extent. But ring-bills are also devout scavengers of dead fish of whatever size, and anything else edible. Ring-bills also commute inland to feed on invertebrates in recently plowed fields and eat humans foods discarded by careless people on large parking lots. While inland, of course, they are not competing with catchers of fish.
All these kinds of fish-eating birds fish from the same bodies of water because they ingest different sized fish that they catch from various parts of those waters. Competition among them is reduced because of their choices of prey and the different ways of getting it. That reduction of rivalry is another way in which the various species of life survive, indefinitely, on this planet.
Watching those fish-eating birds for a couple of hours, I thought about how each species catches its finny prey in various ways, and in different parts of the larger bodies of water they fish in. That diversity of snaring victims reduces competition among them for food. The big, magnificent bald eagles take larger fish from the surface of deeper water by swooping down and grabbing their prey with their long, curved talons from the surface, without entering the water, then pumping strongly to a boulder or tree to consume their catch, sometimes surrounded by crows and vultures who want a share of the spoils.
The elegant ospreys hover into the wind while watching the surface of larger waters for prey. When a larger fish is spotted, each osprey drops to the water and plunges into it, feet first, while grasping its victim in its sharp claws. Each osprey then uses its powerful wings to pull itself out of the water, often with a fish in its talons and powers away to a tree to ingest it.
Interestingly, ospreys seem to be most common where bald eagles are uncommon. There is some direct competition between those species for food. And eagles are bigger and stronger than ospreys and often rob ospreys of the fish they caught.
All members of the stately heron/egret family have long legs for wading in shallow water while hunting fish of various sizes, depending on the size of each bird species. Each member of this majestic family reaches out with lengthy neck and beak to seize fish from the shallows. Their fishing in shallow water reduces rivalry with eagles and ospreys that usually pick up fish from deeper water.
The petite Forster's terns and the bulky, gull-sized Caspian terns with blood red bills fly briskly on long, swept-back wings over the water, hover into the wind momentarily, then dive beak-first into deeper water to seize small fish in their sharp bills. They swallow their victims in mid-air while watching for more. Obviously, terns don't rival eagles and ospreys for larger fish and they don't compete with herons for fish in the shallows.
Double-crested cormorants float like ducks on the water's surface and dive underwater from the surface to catch small fish. They don't compete with eagles and ospreys because they catch little fish. And they don't rival herons or terns by catching their prey in water deeper than those other fish-eating species can manage.
The adaptable and abundant ring-billed gulls catch smaller fish in the shallows and the surfaces of deeper water where they compete with other fish-eating birds to an extent. But ring-bills are also devout scavengers of dead fish of whatever size, and anything else edible. Ring-bills also commute inland to feed on invertebrates in recently plowed fields and eat humans foods discarded by careless people on large parking lots. While inland, of course, they are not competing with catchers of fish.
All these kinds of fish-eating birds fish from the same bodies of water because they ingest different sized fish that they catch from various parts of those waters. Competition among them is reduced because of their choices of prey and the different ways of getting it. That reduction of rivalry is another way in which the various species of life survive, indefinitely, on this planet.
Friday, September 8, 2017
Fall in a Wet Meadow
I stopped at a wet meadow, in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, for an hour late in the morning of September 7 to see what was happening in nature. It was a crisp, sunny day that looked and felt like fall. A cool, northwest wind blew out of clear skies, patched here and there with puffy, white cumulus clouds.
Several kinds of plants were blooming along a brook in that pasture, while other species blossomed in drier soil away from that waterway. The abundant, cheery, golden flowers of bur-marigolds and the limited number of equally delightful, yellow sneezeweed blossoms were starting to bloom, as they always do early in September. Wild plants have an inner timing that allows them to do what they need to do at the right time to survive. And, as is their way, the bur-marigolds and sneezeweeds were both blooming along the edge of the brook, brightening that niche greatly. Those new, golden flowers added to the beauties of the numerous spotted jewelweed blossoms, which are orange with red spots, the New York ironweed flowers that are hot-pink, the white blooms of boneset plants and the pale pink blossoms of smartweeds and Joe Pye-weeds, all of which grow beautifully near waterways in sunny pastures.
Other species of flowering plants bloomed on drier ground in that sunny meadow. They included tall Canada goldenrods and evening primroses with their yellow blossoms and brown knapweeds with their pink blooms. The abundant and bushy-looking asters were just starting to open their pale-blue blossoms. Asters peak their blooming during the beginning of October when they are swarmed by bees, butterflies, especially the little pearl crescents, and other kinds of insects that will all be seeking one of the last big sources of nectar of the year. Pearl crescent butterfly caterpillars, incidentally, feed on the tissues of asters until they change to butterflies.
A migrating ruby-throated hummingbird and several kinds of insects visited flowers to sip sugary nectar while I was there. A couple of strikingly beautiful, migrant monarch butterflies fluttered here and there among the blossoms to sip nectar before continuing on their way south to Florida or Mexico to escape the northern winter.
Other kinds of insects, including several each of bumble bees, digger wasps, cabbage white butterflies, yellow sulphur butterflies, great spangled frittillaries and others, also moved from bloom to bloom to sip nectar. Those insects also contributed to the beauty and interest of the flowers and the pasture they grew in.
Decorative common milkweed pods will soon open, which will release their seeds on the wind. Each brown, flat seed is attached to a white, fluffy parachute it grew to disperse itself, like its many colleagues in a pod, across the landscape. Many seeds floating away on their parachutes create more lovely and interesting sights in autumn.
As I was slowly walking along the rural road that skirts that wet meadow, I saw a few kinds of sapling trees and vines growing along the fence line between the road and the pasture. The trees were bradford pears, mulberries and slippery elms and the vines included poison ivy and Virginia creeper. All those woody plants, but the elms, were introduced to that fence line by birds eating their berries,
digesting the pulp of those fruits, but passing the seeds in their droppings as they fly from place to place. The elm seeds blew in on the wind. The seeds of all those plants sprouted and grew along the fence because the vegetation under it wasn't plowed, mowed, grazed, trampled or sprayed. And, because of the time of the year, some of the pear and poison ivy leaves were turning colors.
I was delighted to see good numbers of adult grasshoppers of at least a few kinds jumping away through the tall grass as I walked along the sunny meadow. They were red-legged and differential grasshoppers for the most part. They hatched from eggs in the ground in spring and ate grass and other vegetation all summer. Now they are full-sized and ready to mate and lay eggs for next year.
A painted turtle and a male bull frog were sitting about a foot apart on tall grass that was pushed flat into the shallow water of the brook. The cold-blooded turtle was there to warm up in the sunlight so it would have the energy to hunt food, while the frog was watching for invertebrates to eat. The frog was partly in the water which kept him from drying up. Although I didn't see any of them in that brook, northern water snakes and green frogs also sit on vegetation and other partly submerged objects to warm up and look for prey respectively, making those little, farmland waterways more interesting to experience.
I also saw a few American goldfinches, a song sparrow and a couple of American kestrels in that pasture. The goldfinches were there to ingest weed and grass seeds. The song sparrow, as its kind does, hopped over muddy edges of the brook in search of invertebrates to consume. And the kestrels
perched on roadside electric wires to watch the tall grass below for grasshoppers and meadow mice to catch and eat. The kestrels may have been migrants stopping at the pasture for lunch.
Autumn was in the air that lovely, crisp, sunny day and some of the life in that meadow reflected that. And all that life was beautiful and intriguing.
Several kinds of plants were blooming along a brook in that pasture, while other species blossomed in drier soil away from that waterway. The abundant, cheery, golden flowers of bur-marigolds and the limited number of equally delightful, yellow sneezeweed blossoms were starting to bloom, as they always do early in September. Wild plants have an inner timing that allows them to do what they need to do at the right time to survive. And, as is their way, the bur-marigolds and sneezeweeds were both blooming along the edge of the brook, brightening that niche greatly. Those new, golden flowers added to the beauties of the numerous spotted jewelweed blossoms, which are orange with red spots, the New York ironweed flowers that are hot-pink, the white blooms of boneset plants and the pale pink blossoms of smartweeds and Joe Pye-weeds, all of which grow beautifully near waterways in sunny pastures.
Other species of flowering plants bloomed on drier ground in that sunny meadow. They included tall Canada goldenrods and evening primroses with their yellow blossoms and brown knapweeds with their pink blooms. The abundant and bushy-looking asters were just starting to open their pale-blue blossoms. Asters peak their blooming during the beginning of October when they are swarmed by bees, butterflies, especially the little pearl crescents, and other kinds of insects that will all be seeking one of the last big sources of nectar of the year. Pearl crescent butterfly caterpillars, incidentally, feed on the tissues of asters until they change to butterflies.
A migrating ruby-throated hummingbird and several kinds of insects visited flowers to sip sugary nectar while I was there. A couple of strikingly beautiful, migrant monarch butterflies fluttered here and there among the blossoms to sip nectar before continuing on their way south to Florida or Mexico to escape the northern winter.
Other kinds of insects, including several each of bumble bees, digger wasps, cabbage white butterflies, yellow sulphur butterflies, great spangled frittillaries and others, also moved from bloom to bloom to sip nectar. Those insects also contributed to the beauty and interest of the flowers and the pasture they grew in.
Decorative common milkweed pods will soon open, which will release their seeds on the wind. Each brown, flat seed is attached to a white, fluffy parachute it grew to disperse itself, like its many colleagues in a pod, across the landscape. Many seeds floating away on their parachutes create more lovely and interesting sights in autumn.
As I was slowly walking along the rural road that skirts that wet meadow, I saw a few kinds of sapling trees and vines growing along the fence line between the road and the pasture. The trees were bradford pears, mulberries and slippery elms and the vines included poison ivy and Virginia creeper. All those woody plants, but the elms, were introduced to that fence line by birds eating their berries,
digesting the pulp of those fruits, but passing the seeds in their droppings as they fly from place to place. The elm seeds blew in on the wind. The seeds of all those plants sprouted and grew along the fence because the vegetation under it wasn't plowed, mowed, grazed, trampled or sprayed. And, because of the time of the year, some of the pear and poison ivy leaves were turning colors.
I was delighted to see good numbers of adult grasshoppers of at least a few kinds jumping away through the tall grass as I walked along the sunny meadow. They were red-legged and differential grasshoppers for the most part. They hatched from eggs in the ground in spring and ate grass and other vegetation all summer. Now they are full-sized and ready to mate and lay eggs for next year.
A painted turtle and a male bull frog were sitting about a foot apart on tall grass that was pushed flat into the shallow water of the brook. The cold-blooded turtle was there to warm up in the sunlight so it would have the energy to hunt food, while the frog was watching for invertebrates to eat. The frog was partly in the water which kept him from drying up. Although I didn't see any of them in that brook, northern water snakes and green frogs also sit on vegetation and other partly submerged objects to warm up and look for prey respectively, making those little, farmland waterways more interesting to experience.
I also saw a few American goldfinches, a song sparrow and a couple of American kestrels in that pasture. The goldfinches were there to ingest weed and grass seeds. The song sparrow, as its kind does, hopped over muddy edges of the brook in search of invertebrates to consume. And the kestrels
perched on roadside electric wires to watch the tall grass below for grasshoppers and meadow mice to catch and eat. The kestrels may have been migrants stopping at the pasture for lunch.
Autumn was in the air that lovely, crisp, sunny day and some of the life in that meadow reflected that. And all that life was beautiful and intriguing.
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
Laughing Gulls and Ring-billed gulls
For a couple of hours on the afternoon of September 12, 2016, I was in a public park in Northeast, Maryland to experience birds that would be along the Northeast River in the northeast corner of Chesapeake Bay. The park lies where the Northeast River changes from creek size to inundated river size at the top of the bay. In that short amount of time on September 12, I saw two dozen double-crested cormorants perched on dead trees fallen into that broad river, a few great blue herons stalking fish in the river's shallows, a few herring gulls and great black-backed gulls floating on the river, and one each of belted kingfisher, osprey and bald eagle, all of which were there to hunt various-sized fish, depending on the species. And I saw hundreds of post-breeding laughing gulls and their brownish young of the year flocked together and mixed with scores of immature ring-billed gulls on the broad Northeast River. Adult laughing gulls no longer had black feathering on their heads that indicate breeding readiness.
As I watched the many laughing gulls and ring-billed gulls on the broad part of Northeast River, a few individuals of each kind left the wide water and, gracefully, but swiftly, flew by me in the park, around a bend in the narrow, creek-sized part of the river and out of sight. Then another mixed flock, and another went by me and around the bend as though following an aerial pathway. Curious as to what those gulls were doing, I walked upstream along the creek-sized river. The tide was going out and those gulls were swirling lightly into the wind for better flight control and landing daintily in inch-deep water and a mid-water mud flat, presumably to rest and digest. Crack willow, red maple and silver maple trees, and patches of ten-foot-tall phragmites gave a shoreline backdrop to the gulls, that narrow part of the river and its mud flats.
I quietly took a seat on a park bench with my 16 power binoculars to study the two gull species about 30 yards away in the narrow section of the Northeast River. They were so close, I could hear soft, seemingly conversational notes uttered by the multitudes of laughing gulls. And the whole time I sat on that bench, one mixed flock of dozen or more gulls, after another, after another, every few minutes, floated down to a gentle landing on the mud flats and the shallows around them. The groups of gulls expertly dropped among their fellows already perched on the water and mud without collision, making an exciting, inspiring show of themselves that was enjoyable to watch. The mixed flock of those gulls grew and grew as time went by, the laughers murmuring among themselves. And they were still there when I moved on.
The ring-bills and adult laughers were mostly gray and white, which camouflages them on sandy beaches and water. The immature laughing gulls, however, were mostly brown and white, which allows them to blend into their salt marsh habitats where they hatched, and distinguishes them from their elders.
Laughing gulls and ring-billed gulls have much in common. They are about the same size, adaptable, abundant and get food from natural habitats, including beaches, mud flats, salt marshes and larger bodies of salt, brackish and fresh water. They also feed on earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates in plowed fields, and on cast-off people food on parking lots and in dumpsters.
Laughing gulls nest in salt marshes along America's ocean shores while ring-bills raise young around the Great lakes, the St. Lawrence River and some of the lakes in interior Canada, which means these species don't mix much in summer, reducing competition for food to feed their young. However, while laughing gulls winter along the coasts of the southern United States, the Caribbean and Mexico down to South America, some ring-bills also winter along the coasts of the United States, meaning these gull species overlap during fall, winter and spring when they often form mixed flocks.
The mixed gatherings of laughing and ring-billed gulls resting on mud flats and shallows in the creek-sized part of Northeast River where it enters the broad section of river at the top of Chesapeake Bay were a pleasure to experience so close to shore. It's natural happenings like this that help make life more inspiring and enjoyable.
As I watched the many laughing gulls and ring-billed gulls on the broad part of Northeast River, a few individuals of each kind left the wide water and, gracefully, but swiftly, flew by me in the park, around a bend in the narrow, creek-sized part of the river and out of sight. Then another mixed flock, and another went by me and around the bend as though following an aerial pathway. Curious as to what those gulls were doing, I walked upstream along the creek-sized river. The tide was going out and those gulls were swirling lightly into the wind for better flight control and landing daintily in inch-deep water and a mid-water mud flat, presumably to rest and digest. Crack willow, red maple and silver maple trees, and patches of ten-foot-tall phragmites gave a shoreline backdrop to the gulls, that narrow part of the river and its mud flats.
I quietly took a seat on a park bench with my 16 power binoculars to study the two gull species about 30 yards away in the narrow section of the Northeast River. They were so close, I could hear soft, seemingly conversational notes uttered by the multitudes of laughing gulls. And the whole time I sat on that bench, one mixed flock of dozen or more gulls, after another, after another, every few minutes, floated down to a gentle landing on the mud flats and the shallows around them. The groups of gulls expertly dropped among their fellows already perched on the water and mud without collision, making an exciting, inspiring show of themselves that was enjoyable to watch. The mixed flock of those gulls grew and grew as time went by, the laughers murmuring among themselves. And they were still there when I moved on.
The ring-bills and adult laughers were mostly gray and white, which camouflages them on sandy beaches and water. The immature laughing gulls, however, were mostly brown and white, which allows them to blend into their salt marsh habitats where they hatched, and distinguishes them from their elders.
Laughing gulls and ring-billed gulls have much in common. They are about the same size, adaptable, abundant and get food from natural habitats, including beaches, mud flats, salt marshes and larger bodies of salt, brackish and fresh water. They also feed on earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates in plowed fields, and on cast-off people food on parking lots and in dumpsters.
Laughing gulls nest in salt marshes along America's ocean shores while ring-bills raise young around the Great lakes, the St. Lawrence River and some of the lakes in interior Canada, which means these species don't mix much in summer, reducing competition for food to feed their young. However, while laughing gulls winter along the coasts of the southern United States, the Caribbean and Mexico down to South America, some ring-bills also winter along the coasts of the United States, meaning these gull species overlap during fall, winter and spring when they often form mixed flocks.
The mixed gatherings of laughing and ring-billed gulls resting on mud flats and shallows in the creek-sized part of Northeast River where it enters the broad section of river at the top of Chesapeake Bay were a pleasure to experience so close to shore. It's natural happenings like this that help make life more inspiring and enjoyable.
Saturday, September 2, 2017
A Bottomland Meadow
There is a bottomland meadow in farmland in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, studded here and there with a variety of large, floodplain trees, that I visit now and again to experience nature. For a couple of hours in the afternoon of September first, I stopped at that cow pasture to once again enjoy nature. As I pulled off the country road, I again admired the one or two each of big sycamore, white oak, pin oak, black walnut, river birch, honey locust, red maple, white ash and crack willow trees that shade parts of the meadow and provide food and shelter for wildlife. Gray squirrels and white-tailed deer from nearby woods come into this meadow to eat some of the acorns and other seeds from some of these trees.
Although most of this pasture is covered by short grass for livestock to graze on, there also are patches of tall grass here and there. Many of those high grasses, such as foxtail grass, are loaded with seeds that mice and seed-eating birds will eat this winter.
But it was the variety and abundance of flowering plants that caught my attention the most during those two hours. Flower highlights included patches of tall, bushy spotted jewelweeds with their orange, cornucopia-shaped blooms in sunny niches, their close relatives and look-alikes pale jewelweeds that grow yellow blossoms in shaded spots, New York ironweeds with their hot-pink flowers, great lobelias, and lots of it, that have bluish-purple blooms, Asiatic dayflowers that produce blue blossoms, clumps of tall smartweeds with pink blooms and scatterings of knotweeds with tiny, white flowers. All these flowering plants begin to bloom late in summer, adding to the beauties of plants that flower before them in meadows and along rural roadsides. Migrating ruby-throated hummingbirds dip their long beaks into jewelweed and lobelia flowers to sip sugary, energy-giving nectar. Interestingly to me, the blooms of Asiatic dayflowers look like the face of Mickey Mouse. The two blue petals resemble Mickey's ears and the yellow stamens together are his nose.
Several each of bumble bees, carpenter bees and silver-spotted skipper butterflies also visited the jewelweed and lobelia blooms to sip nectar, pollinating those attractive blossoms in the process. Those insects add more life and beauty to the meadow late in summer.
I saw other kinds of interesting insects in that meadow. Small, dark field crickets seemed to be everywhere at the base of the grasses and on the road by the pasture. American grasshoppers and red-legged grasshoppers jumped away through the grass when I walked on the road along the edge of the pasture. A couple of striking monarch butterflies fluttered low over the meadow and visited ironweed flowers to suck up nectar. Those monarchs might be of the generation that will migrate south to Florida or Mexico ahead of the coming winter. And I saw three orange and chocolate least skipper butterflies fluttering together in a clump of tall grasses.
I also saw two large, black and yellow garden spiders, each in her own big, orb web about ten feet apart on a fence railing. Those spiders, as a species, are quite pretty, as is their webbing used to snare invertebrates. While I watched, one garden spider ran down her web to attack a wasp that got caught in it. But that strong insect broke away from the web before the spider got a good grip on it to paralyze it.
And I noticed a male eastern bluebird perched in one of the trees and watching for passing insects to grab in its beak and consume. This bluebird and its mate may have raised a couple of broods of young in a tree cavity in this cow pasture.
A song sparrow moved about the gravelly shores of a brook in its search for invertebrates and seeds to ingest. That bird was hard to see because of its being brown in a brown habitat.
The most interesting vertebrate I saw that afternoon was a half-grown northern water snake that was basking in sunlight on top of a pile of sticks dumped along the side of the brook by high water in the past. I almost didn't see that snake at all because of its excellent camouflage.
Though this meadow is grazed by livestock in farm country, it has its wild moments, too. One can spot many kinds of critters just by quietly, patiently watching for it in almost any habitat, both wild and human-made. And by watching closely, even the smallest natural happenings are noticed.
Although most of this pasture is covered by short grass for livestock to graze on, there also are patches of tall grass here and there. Many of those high grasses, such as foxtail grass, are loaded with seeds that mice and seed-eating birds will eat this winter.
But it was the variety and abundance of flowering plants that caught my attention the most during those two hours. Flower highlights included patches of tall, bushy spotted jewelweeds with their orange, cornucopia-shaped blooms in sunny niches, their close relatives and look-alikes pale jewelweeds that grow yellow blossoms in shaded spots, New York ironweeds with their hot-pink flowers, great lobelias, and lots of it, that have bluish-purple blooms, Asiatic dayflowers that produce blue blossoms, clumps of tall smartweeds with pink blooms and scatterings of knotweeds with tiny, white flowers. All these flowering plants begin to bloom late in summer, adding to the beauties of plants that flower before them in meadows and along rural roadsides. Migrating ruby-throated hummingbirds dip their long beaks into jewelweed and lobelia flowers to sip sugary, energy-giving nectar. Interestingly to me, the blooms of Asiatic dayflowers look like the face of Mickey Mouse. The two blue petals resemble Mickey's ears and the yellow stamens together are his nose.
Several each of bumble bees, carpenter bees and silver-spotted skipper butterflies also visited the jewelweed and lobelia blooms to sip nectar, pollinating those attractive blossoms in the process. Those insects add more life and beauty to the meadow late in summer.
I saw other kinds of interesting insects in that meadow. Small, dark field crickets seemed to be everywhere at the base of the grasses and on the road by the pasture. American grasshoppers and red-legged grasshoppers jumped away through the grass when I walked on the road along the edge of the pasture. A couple of striking monarch butterflies fluttered low over the meadow and visited ironweed flowers to suck up nectar. Those monarchs might be of the generation that will migrate south to Florida or Mexico ahead of the coming winter. And I saw three orange and chocolate least skipper butterflies fluttering together in a clump of tall grasses.
I also saw two large, black and yellow garden spiders, each in her own big, orb web about ten feet apart on a fence railing. Those spiders, as a species, are quite pretty, as is their webbing used to snare invertebrates. While I watched, one garden spider ran down her web to attack a wasp that got caught in it. But that strong insect broke away from the web before the spider got a good grip on it to paralyze it.
And I noticed a male eastern bluebird perched in one of the trees and watching for passing insects to grab in its beak and consume. This bluebird and its mate may have raised a couple of broods of young in a tree cavity in this cow pasture.
A song sparrow moved about the gravelly shores of a brook in its search for invertebrates and seeds to ingest. That bird was hard to see because of its being brown in a brown habitat.
The most interesting vertebrate I saw that afternoon was a half-grown northern water snake that was basking in sunlight on top of a pile of sticks dumped along the side of the brook by high water in the past. I almost didn't see that snake at all because of its excellent camouflage.
Though this meadow is grazed by livestock in farm country, it has its wild moments, too. One can spot many kinds of critters just by quietly, patiently watching for it in almost any habitat, both wild and human-made. And by watching closely, even the smallest natural happenings are noticed.
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