The attractive Japanese barberry bushes and burning bushes have been planted on many lawns in eastern North America for their beauties, especially in their autumn leaves during October and November. But these shrubs are aliens from eastern Asia, invasive and have many other characteristics in common, which makes them interesting.
Both these species of beautiful shrubs are most noticeable in November when their striking, red leaves stand out. And I think they are particularly attractive in the shrub layers of certain woods, woodland edges, hedgerows between fields and roadsides where they sprouted on their own from seeds. The red leaves of those wild bushes brighten those natural and human-made habitats.
Both kinds of shrubs traveled from lawns to wild habitats by starlings, American robins, eastern bluebirds, cedar waxwings and other kinds of birds consuming their strikingly red berries in autumn and into winter. A northern mockingbird, a few robins and a little groups of bluebirds have eaten red berries off barberries on our lawn in winter over the years. All those bird species easily see the red berries, digest their pulp, but pass their seeds in droppings as they fly across the countryside and into the woods. Many of those seeds that are not ingested by mice and squirrels sprout into new shrubs. Barberries and burning bushes have become firmly established in many woodlands in recent years.
In the distant past, apparently, those barberries and burning bushes that produced red berries had a better chance of reproducing themselves because birds can see colors to pick out and eat ripe fruit of various kinds. And birds don't have teeth to chew the seeds, which would kill plant embryos inside them. And because those embryos develop in tough shells that don't get digested by the birds' stomachs, they survive the birds' ingesting the berries. Therefore, those birds pass viable seeds, ensuring themselves of future food supplies.
Small birds that raise young in shrubbery can also rear offspring in barberry bushes and burning bushes. Both species have multitudes of stems, twigs and leaves that shelter young birds in their nurseries. Barberries also have thin, sharp thorns that help keep predators at bay. A pair each of northern cardinals and gray catbirds have nested in our barberries over the years, but not in the same ones at the same time. I have not seen their cradles of twigs and rootlets when young were in them, but I see parents of both species repeatedly taking insects into that shrubbery in summer and emerging with white droppings from the babies in their beaks to drop away from the nests. And I see the abandoned nests in winter when the leaves are off those bushes.
Barberries and burning bushes are beautiful shrubs, particularly in October and November when their foliage turns red. But they are invasive in woodlands and other habitats because of birds eating their berries. However, I think both these adaptable species are here to stay in the wild. And we have to redefine what plants compose a woodland shrub layer. Though many people are not fond of these bushes in the woods, they do brighten that habitat and benefit a variety of wildlife as well.
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
Saturday, November 25, 2017
November's Migrant Hawks and Eagles
In November, when a cold front comes through southeastern and southcentral Pennsylvania with its roaring, cold, northwest or north winds after a few days of sullen, rainy weather, many hawks and eagles of several kinds migrate through this area, mostly along the southwest running Appalachian Mountains. Sharp-shinned hawks, northern harriers, merlins and red-shouldered hawks are some of those hawk species, in limited numbers. But red-tailed hawks, bald eagles and golden eagles steal the raptor migration show during those wild days in November; red-tails because of their big numbers and eagles because they are eagles. Those last three kinds of majestic raptors cause moments of excitement, inspiration and beauty.
Of course, all these hawks and eagles are migrating south from farther north. And they do so each fall, not to escape winter's cold, but to find reliable food supplies farther south to sustain themselves through that harshest of seasons.
The strong northwest winds are pushed up the southwest running Appalachians by wind from behind. Dead, deciduous leaves, corn leaves from the valleys below and other debris are briskly pushed up the slopes by the wind as well. And hawks and eagles are held aloft along the length of the mountains, particularly the Kittitinny Ridge, by those same winds. Those soaring raptors are pushed up by the wind, but gravity wants to pull them down. With a steadying balance of wings and tails, hawks and eagles forge ahead for hours and many miles with scarcely a wing beat, which saves them a lot of energy.
There are several rocky lookout spots, open to the public, on the Kittitinny Ridge, including Bake Oven Knob, Hawk Mountain Sanctuary and Waggoner's Gap, where these migrating raptors can be easily seen. But many migrating hawks and eagles follow other southwest running ridges in autumn as well.
Sometimes the winds are from the south or east, or don't exist at all. Then raptors scatter off the Appalachians and search for thermals that will carry them up and south. Thermals are sun-heated air that rises. Hawks and eagles get into them and soar upward, circling higher and higher. Then they peel out of the thermal and drift south or southwest for many miles. But because of gravity, those raptors are obliged to seek thermals time after time to give them lift with little effort.
The adaptable, abundant red-tails migrate over Pennsylvania in large numbers, mostly from the end of October, through November and into early December. These large hawks sometimes soar one close after another along the Kittitinny during blustery, northwest winds. But they are also spotted migrating in small groups or lines over farmland in southeastern Pennsylvania, creating feelings of excitement and inspiration among those people who notice them there. Some of those migrant red-tails winter in southeastern Pennsylvania, where they mingle with residents of their kind.
The stately bald eagles migrate through here singly from August into December. This type of eagle can be spotted most anywhere during its autumn migration, around rivers and impoundments where they catch fish, and over farmland where they scavenge dead animals. I've even seen a few soaring over the town of New Holland in the last couple of years. Fully adult balds have the white heads and tails we are familiar with. But first year bald eagles are mostly dark brown with blotches of white here and there. Many balds, both young and older, spend winters in the Mid-Atlantic States. But, I suppose, the magnificent golden eagles are the most exciting of raptors to migrate through southeastern Pennsylvania, from late October into December, with a peak of migration during November. Goldens that pass over this area nested in Maine and eastern Canada. And most of them winter in wooded valleys between wooded mountains in West Virginia. There they kill and ingest rabbits, foxes and other kinds of mammals, and birds, and scavenge dead animals, including white-tailed deer.
Fall hawk migrations extend from August through December, but each species has its own pattern of migration. The majestic red-tails, bald eagles and golden eagles are those raptors that are most prevalent and exciting during November into December. Lucky are the people who see some of these migrant raptors, including in southeastern and south-central Pennsylvania.
Of course, all these hawks and eagles are migrating south from farther north. And they do so each fall, not to escape winter's cold, but to find reliable food supplies farther south to sustain themselves through that harshest of seasons.
The strong northwest winds are pushed up the southwest running Appalachians by wind from behind. Dead, deciduous leaves, corn leaves from the valleys below and other debris are briskly pushed up the slopes by the wind as well. And hawks and eagles are held aloft along the length of the mountains, particularly the Kittitinny Ridge, by those same winds. Those soaring raptors are pushed up by the wind, but gravity wants to pull them down. With a steadying balance of wings and tails, hawks and eagles forge ahead for hours and many miles with scarcely a wing beat, which saves them a lot of energy.
There are several rocky lookout spots, open to the public, on the Kittitinny Ridge, including Bake Oven Knob, Hawk Mountain Sanctuary and Waggoner's Gap, where these migrating raptors can be easily seen. But many migrating hawks and eagles follow other southwest running ridges in autumn as well.
Sometimes the winds are from the south or east, or don't exist at all. Then raptors scatter off the Appalachians and search for thermals that will carry them up and south. Thermals are sun-heated air that rises. Hawks and eagles get into them and soar upward, circling higher and higher. Then they peel out of the thermal and drift south or southwest for many miles. But because of gravity, those raptors are obliged to seek thermals time after time to give them lift with little effort.
The adaptable, abundant red-tails migrate over Pennsylvania in large numbers, mostly from the end of October, through November and into early December. These large hawks sometimes soar one close after another along the Kittitinny during blustery, northwest winds. But they are also spotted migrating in small groups or lines over farmland in southeastern Pennsylvania, creating feelings of excitement and inspiration among those people who notice them there. Some of those migrant red-tails winter in southeastern Pennsylvania, where they mingle with residents of their kind.
The stately bald eagles migrate through here singly from August into December. This type of eagle can be spotted most anywhere during its autumn migration, around rivers and impoundments where they catch fish, and over farmland where they scavenge dead animals. I've even seen a few soaring over the town of New Holland in the last couple of years. Fully adult balds have the white heads and tails we are familiar with. But first year bald eagles are mostly dark brown with blotches of white here and there. Many balds, both young and older, spend winters in the Mid-Atlantic States. But, I suppose, the magnificent golden eagles are the most exciting of raptors to migrate through southeastern Pennsylvania, from late October into December, with a peak of migration during November. Goldens that pass over this area nested in Maine and eastern Canada. And most of them winter in wooded valleys between wooded mountains in West Virginia. There they kill and ingest rabbits, foxes and other kinds of mammals, and birds, and scavenge dead animals, including white-tailed deer.
Fall hawk migrations extend from August through December, but each species has its own pattern of migration. The majestic red-tails, bald eagles and golden eagles are those raptors that are most prevalent and exciting during November into December. Lucky are the people who see some of these migrant raptors, including in southeastern and south-central Pennsylvania.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Juncos and White-Throats
For a couple of hours on the afternoon of November 9, 2017, I went to a landfill area just outside Morgantown, Pennsylvania to look for small birds in thickets. While driving slowly back a gravel lane along a woodland edge, I saw hundreds of ring-billed gulls wheeling together overhead, flocks of starlings perched on tall, wire fences that enclosed the landfill, a few American crows in trees and several turkey vultures soaring on high and over the landfill. Suddenly, I saw several little birds fly off the gravel road ahead of me and into the bordering woods. Those small birds probably were eating tiny stones to help grind the seeds in their stomachs. I stopped, scanned the birds with 16 power binoculars and saw they were dark-eyed juncos. As they left the road, I estimated there were about 50 of them, but I only saw a few in the woods. Most of the juncos ducked out of sight and were camouflaged against tree trunks and fallen leaves on the woodland floor. Juncos are as gray as a November sky on top, but their bellies are as white as snow.
For a short time I watched for the juncos to come out of hiding, but none of them did. I turned the car around and slowly drove out the way I came in. About halfway down the gravel lane, I saw about 12 white-throated sparrows in a weedy thicket. They were busily eating seeds off the tops of tall weeds and grasses. But being brown and dark-streaked, they were not easy to see among the dead weeds and grasses. And, as their name implies, each handsome sparrow that I did see through binoculars had a white throat patch.
Just before I got to the blacktop road, I saw another flock of small birds on the gravel, probably ingesting bits of stones. When I looked at them through field glasses, I noticed they were a group of about 100 juncos. Unfortunately for the birds and me, I car whizzed by on the blacktop and the juncos flew into a stand of red junipers and nearby woods.
The eastern race of dark-eyed juncos and I go back a long way to my childhood. The first ones I saw were about a dozen of them wintering in our garden outside Rohrerstown, Pennsylvania. They were feeding on weed seeds in that garden, but flew away when I accidentally approached them, the two white, outer tail feathers of each bird creating an up-side-down V as they hastened from me.
I also saw wintering juncos in some stands of planted, fragrant coniferous trees that happened to be near patches of tall weeds and grasses. As I approached the evergreens, I would see juncos disappearing among needled boughs, chipping excitedly as they went and flashing their white V's. Their chipping and lively activities made those clumps of conifers come alive during winter.
I first saw little groups of wintering white-throats in thickets along woodland edges when I was a young adult. And I see them on older lawns with many tall trees and shrubbery. The heads of male white-throats are quite striking with black and white striping on their crowns and a yellow spot between the beak and each eye. And each male has a vividly-white throat.
Male white-throats sing beautifully in winter, mostly at dusk. Each one perches in a thicket and whistles a long note, then another long note on a higher pitch, followed by four short ones on the same pitch as the second note. A few male white-throats singing pleasantly together in a thicket make a cold, winter twilight more bearable. Their songs are appealing and heart-warming.
Juncos and white-throats have some traits in common. Neither of these handsome, abundant sparrow species nest in southeastern Pennsylvania, but farther north and west, and down the Appalachian Mountains in the case of the juncos. Both eat weed and grass seeds in winter. Both kinds also winter on lawns and regularly come to bird feeders, including in our yard.
Wintering dark-eyed juncos and white-throated sparrows add much beauty and interest to thickets, stands of evergreens and lawns in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere. They help brighten many a cold, dreary winter's day with their lively activities.
For a short time I watched for the juncos to come out of hiding, but none of them did. I turned the car around and slowly drove out the way I came in. About halfway down the gravel lane, I saw about 12 white-throated sparrows in a weedy thicket. They were busily eating seeds off the tops of tall weeds and grasses. But being brown and dark-streaked, they were not easy to see among the dead weeds and grasses. And, as their name implies, each handsome sparrow that I did see through binoculars had a white throat patch.
Just before I got to the blacktop road, I saw another flock of small birds on the gravel, probably ingesting bits of stones. When I looked at them through field glasses, I noticed they were a group of about 100 juncos. Unfortunately for the birds and me, I car whizzed by on the blacktop and the juncos flew into a stand of red junipers and nearby woods.
The eastern race of dark-eyed juncos and I go back a long way to my childhood. The first ones I saw were about a dozen of them wintering in our garden outside Rohrerstown, Pennsylvania. They were feeding on weed seeds in that garden, but flew away when I accidentally approached them, the two white, outer tail feathers of each bird creating an up-side-down V as they hastened from me.
I also saw wintering juncos in some stands of planted, fragrant coniferous trees that happened to be near patches of tall weeds and grasses. As I approached the evergreens, I would see juncos disappearing among needled boughs, chipping excitedly as they went and flashing their white V's. Their chipping and lively activities made those clumps of conifers come alive during winter.
I first saw little groups of wintering white-throats in thickets along woodland edges when I was a young adult. And I see them on older lawns with many tall trees and shrubbery. The heads of male white-throats are quite striking with black and white striping on their crowns and a yellow spot between the beak and each eye. And each male has a vividly-white throat.
Male white-throats sing beautifully in winter, mostly at dusk. Each one perches in a thicket and whistles a long note, then another long note on a higher pitch, followed by four short ones on the same pitch as the second note. A few male white-throats singing pleasantly together in a thicket make a cold, winter twilight more bearable. Their songs are appealing and heart-warming.
Juncos and white-throats have some traits in common. Neither of these handsome, abundant sparrow species nest in southeastern Pennsylvania, but farther north and west, and down the Appalachian Mountains in the case of the juncos. Both eat weed and grass seeds in winter. Both kinds also winter on lawns and regularly come to bird feeders, including in our yard.
Wintering dark-eyed juncos and white-throated sparrows add much beauty and interest to thickets, stands of evergreens and lawns in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere. They help brighten many a cold, dreary winter's day with their lively activities.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Great Black-Backs
For an hour and a half one afternoon this November, Sue and I went to the Susquehanna River at Wrightsville, Pennsylvania to enjoy river scenery and whatever birds were on the river. There were several ring-billed gulls along the river, as always in winter, and a few great blue herons wading the shallows in search of fish. But I was most impressed with the 40 striking, adult great black-backed gulls we saw on the river from the western shore of a quarter-mile stretch of river between the Route 462 bridge and the Route 30 bridge that span the Susquehanna. I don't think I ever saw as many adult black-backs as that afternoon along the inland Susquehanna River. Most of them stood on mid-river rocks, but a few floated on the water. And there a few mottled-brown immature black-backs on the river with the adults. It takes four years for a black-backed gull to acquire its adult, breeding plumage of black and white.
We saw seven adult black-backs perched on seven outdoor light shields on the mile-long 462 bridge we crossed to get to the western shore at Wrightsville. Those gulls were totally undisturbed by passing vehicles, so we got close looks at them as we drove by. Even on those outdoor lights, they were handsome and stately.
Great black-backs are North America's largest gulls. And they are becoming more abundant on this continent. They are about the size of geese and adults are white all over, except for their black upper wings and backs. When in flight, adult black-backs can resemble adult bald eagles. But the white bellies of the gulls soon give them away as adult black-backs. This species also has pink legs and feet, and yellow beaks with a blotch of red on the tip of the lower mandible.
Great black-backed gulls are magnificent soaring and wheeling in the sky over the river, and estuaries, and back waters off the oceans. They bank as they soar, alternately flashing the white of their underparts, then the black of their wings and backs.
In summer, black-backs eat the eggs and small young of water birds and the adults of smaller species of coastal birds, as well as fish and carrion. And in winter, they loosely gather with others of their kind, and herring gulls, which are nearly as big as the black-backs. Now black-backs consume fish they catch themselves, scavenge most anything edible and rob smaller, fish-catching birds of the seafood they caught.
Great black-backed gulls nest on both coasts of the North Atlantic from northern Labrador, Central Greenland, Iceland, Scandinavia and northwest Russia south to Long Island and Brittany. And they winter from southern Greenland south to the Great Lakes and the North Carolina coast in North America. Winter is when we in the Middle Atlantic States see the most black-backs.
Black-backs raise young either in solitary pairs or in little colonies on small coastal islands and isolated peninsulas. Their nurseries are made of twigs, grass, moss, seaweed and other handy, natural materials in a depression in soil or among rocks on as lofty a spot as they can find and defend from rivals. Each female lays three buffy-olive eggs that have dark brown blotches. The young hatch fluffy, pale brown with darker markings, wide-eyed and ready to beg their parents for food.
Great black-backs are the largest and most majestic of gulls in North America. I am always happy to see gatherings of them loafing on mid-river rocks or soaring on high along the Susquehanna in winter. They add more beauty, intrigue and wildness to that river, as they do elsewhere.
We saw seven adult black-backs perched on seven outdoor light shields on the mile-long 462 bridge we crossed to get to the western shore at Wrightsville. Those gulls were totally undisturbed by passing vehicles, so we got close looks at them as we drove by. Even on those outdoor lights, they were handsome and stately.
Great black-backs are North America's largest gulls. And they are becoming more abundant on this continent. They are about the size of geese and adults are white all over, except for their black upper wings and backs. When in flight, adult black-backs can resemble adult bald eagles. But the white bellies of the gulls soon give them away as adult black-backs. This species also has pink legs and feet, and yellow beaks with a blotch of red on the tip of the lower mandible.
Great black-backed gulls are magnificent soaring and wheeling in the sky over the river, and estuaries, and back waters off the oceans. They bank as they soar, alternately flashing the white of their underparts, then the black of their wings and backs.
In summer, black-backs eat the eggs and small young of water birds and the adults of smaller species of coastal birds, as well as fish and carrion. And in winter, they loosely gather with others of their kind, and herring gulls, which are nearly as big as the black-backs. Now black-backs consume fish they catch themselves, scavenge most anything edible and rob smaller, fish-catching birds of the seafood they caught.
Great black-backed gulls nest on both coasts of the North Atlantic from northern Labrador, Central Greenland, Iceland, Scandinavia and northwest Russia south to Long Island and Brittany. And they winter from southern Greenland south to the Great Lakes and the North Carolina coast in North America. Winter is when we in the Middle Atlantic States see the most black-backs.
Black-backs raise young either in solitary pairs or in little colonies on small coastal islands and isolated peninsulas. Their nurseries are made of twigs, grass, moss, seaweed and other handy, natural materials in a depression in soil or among rocks on as lofty a spot as they can find and defend from rivals. Each female lays three buffy-olive eggs that have dark brown blotches. The young hatch fluffy, pale brown with darker markings, wide-eyed and ready to beg their parents for food.
Great black-backs are the largest and most majestic of gulls in North America. I am always happy to see gatherings of them loafing on mid-river rocks or soaring on high along the Susquehanna in winter. They add more beauty, intrigue and wildness to that river, as they do elsewhere.
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Picturesque Winter Trees
The "skeletons" of deciduous trees are visible in winter, after their colorful veils of foliage have dropped to the ground. The bark and the rugged shapes of standing trees are just as handsome in winter as their leaves are in summer and autumn. Nine species of native trees here in southeastern Pennsylvania are especially attractive to me because of their protective bark and interesting shapes. These species are striking, and distinctive, which makes each one identifiable in winter. And those same kinds of trees can get massive, which adds to their charm.
Sycamore and silver maple trees grow mostly along waterways. Sycamores are noted for their mottled bark and seed balls that hang on long stems from the ends of twigs. As the older, darker bark falls away in little pieces, the lighter, younger bark is visible, causing the mottled appearance on trunk and branches. Because of sycamores' blotched bark and growing along waterways, one can see from a distance where waterways are.
Silver maples have rough bark and scraggly shapes. But both this maple, and sycamores, help hold down stream-side soil with their roots and have many cavities caused by wind ripping limbs off their trees, causing the wood underneath to rot out. Raccoons, wood ducks, barred owls, chickadees and other kinds of wildlife live in those different-sized hollows, and raise young in them.
Shagbark hickories, pin oaks and white oaks grow best in woods on moist bottomlands, but not necessarily along waterways. Maturing shagbarks have many vertical sheets of bark on their trunks and limbs, each one of which is loose and curls up at both ends, but its center is still attached to the tree. Those many strips of bark give each hickory a shaggy, rustic, interesting appearance. Gray squirrels and other kinds of rodents gnaw into the green husks and white shells of hickory nuts to consume the meat inside. Only rodents have jaws strong enough and teeth sharp enough to do that.
Pin oaks have lower limbs that droop to the ground, which identifies them. This type of oak produces small acorns, each with a "pin" on its end. Those nuts are hidden away by blue jays, gray squirrels and eastern chipmunks for winter use. And other kinds of wildlife, including black bears, white-tailed deer, white-footed mice, other kinds of squirrels, American crows and wild turkeys, consume pin oak acorns as well.
White oaks have grooved, pale-gray bark that identifies them. Their sweet acorns are eaten by the same creatures mentioned above, plus people.
Tulip poplar trees, American beeches and sugar maples inhabit drier bottomland woods. Tulip trees have straight trunks, shallow grooves in their smooth bark, beige, winged seeds that twirl and scatter in the wind to the ground and many upright, inch-long spikes that the seeds were attached to before dispersing. The spikes are pointed at the upper end and can be used as toothpicks.
Beeches have attractively smooth, gray bark that identifies them. And they have small nuts in bristly husks that feed the same critters mentioned above. Massive beeches have many cavities that house a variety of woodland wildlife.
Sugar maples have rugged-looking bark that flares out in many places along the trunk and branches, but is tightly attached to them. Large sugar maples have many hollows that house several kinds of cavity-living wildlife.
These are some of my favorite trees in winter, obviously for a variety of reasons. They help make winter landscapes more beautiful and intriguing. And they provide food and cover for several types of wildlife.
Sycamore and silver maple trees grow mostly along waterways. Sycamores are noted for their mottled bark and seed balls that hang on long stems from the ends of twigs. As the older, darker bark falls away in little pieces, the lighter, younger bark is visible, causing the mottled appearance on trunk and branches. Because of sycamores' blotched bark and growing along waterways, one can see from a distance where waterways are.
Silver maples have rough bark and scraggly shapes. But both this maple, and sycamores, help hold down stream-side soil with their roots and have many cavities caused by wind ripping limbs off their trees, causing the wood underneath to rot out. Raccoons, wood ducks, barred owls, chickadees and other kinds of wildlife live in those different-sized hollows, and raise young in them.
Shagbark hickories, pin oaks and white oaks grow best in woods on moist bottomlands, but not necessarily along waterways. Maturing shagbarks have many vertical sheets of bark on their trunks and limbs, each one of which is loose and curls up at both ends, but its center is still attached to the tree. Those many strips of bark give each hickory a shaggy, rustic, interesting appearance. Gray squirrels and other kinds of rodents gnaw into the green husks and white shells of hickory nuts to consume the meat inside. Only rodents have jaws strong enough and teeth sharp enough to do that.
Pin oaks have lower limbs that droop to the ground, which identifies them. This type of oak produces small acorns, each with a "pin" on its end. Those nuts are hidden away by blue jays, gray squirrels and eastern chipmunks for winter use. And other kinds of wildlife, including black bears, white-tailed deer, white-footed mice, other kinds of squirrels, American crows and wild turkeys, consume pin oak acorns as well.
White oaks have grooved, pale-gray bark that identifies them. Their sweet acorns are eaten by the same creatures mentioned above, plus people.
Tulip poplar trees, American beeches and sugar maples inhabit drier bottomland woods. Tulip trees have straight trunks, shallow grooves in their smooth bark, beige, winged seeds that twirl and scatter in the wind to the ground and many upright, inch-long spikes that the seeds were attached to before dispersing. The spikes are pointed at the upper end and can be used as toothpicks.
Beeches have attractively smooth, gray bark that identifies them. And they have small nuts in bristly husks that feed the same critters mentioned above. Massive beeches have many cavities that house a variety of woodland wildlife.
Sugar maples have rugged-looking bark that flares out in many places along the trunk and branches, but is tightly attached to them. Large sugar maples have many hollows that house several kinds of cavity-living wildlife.
These are some of my favorite trees in winter, obviously for a variety of reasons. They help make winter landscapes more beautiful and intriguing. And they provide food and cover for several types of wildlife.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Winter Signs of Insects
Only the warm-blooded birds and mammals are active and noticed in the Middle Atlantic States in winter. Cold-blooded creatures, including insects, are not seen much during that harshest of seasons. But in winter we see several signs of the insect activities that happened during the warmer months when they were active. Those signs of insects make being outdoors in winter more interesting. Those signs indicate the presence of insects, and a bit of their life histories that we can read in winter.
The nests of two kinds of wasps and a related hornet are seen in winter with little effort. Northern paper wasps live in sunny, open habitats. Adults of this species sip nectar, and juice from rotting fruit, while their larvae in their six-sided, paper cells consume insects caught, pre-chewed and brought to the larvae by adult wasps.
In spring, about a dozen reddish-brown and yellow-ringed female paper wasps work together to make an uncovered paper nest of several cells that they attach up-side-down to an overhanging boulder, roof or other sheltering place. Cell openings point down to shed rain. Each paper nest of these wasps is constructed of chewed wood and the wasps' saliva.
Worker female black and yellow mud dauber wasps gather small bits of mud and shape them into a few vertical, side-by-side, tubular cells, each over two inches long, under roofs, cliffs and other protective niches. Each tube has a few compartments. A paralyzed spider is deposited in each cell, a wasp egg is laid on each spider and the cell is closed off with mud. Each larva eats its spider, pupates in its cell and emerges as an adult. Adult wasps ingest flower nectar.
Worker female bald-faced hornets chew wood and mix it with their saliva to make football-sized, paper nests in deciduous trees on lawns and in woods and meadows. Each hornet nest is composed of many six-sided cells inside, completely covered by a few layers of gray paper with an entrance in the bottom of that nursery. All adult hornets sip flower nectar, but larvae eat pre-chewed insects, delivered to them in their cells by the adults. In fall, males and female workers die and the queen of each colony burrows into the soil to await spring. Therefore, each decorative nest is empty in mid-winter and can be safely collected with no harm to hornets or people. The hornets will never use that nursery again.
Small groups of female eastern carpenter bees are so-named because each one of them chews round holes the size of their bodies and a few inches deep in the undersides of dead wood in trees and human-made structures, including fence railings and covered bridges. Each female places a ball of pollen and nectar in the back of the tube she chewed out and lays an egg on that ball. Then she seals off that chamber with wood chips and places another ball of pollen and nectar in the next chamber to the front, lays an egg on it and seals it. She continues that until her burrow is full and sealed off. Each larva consumes its food, pupates in its chamber and emerges as an adult.
The predatory praying mantises survive winter in the egg stage in round, beige-colored, styrofoam-like masses, each about one inch across and attached to a weed or twig in an overgrown field. Each female exudes froth as she lays eggs at some time in October. That froth hardens and protects the embryos inside until they hatch the next May.
One can see the tunnels of carpenter ants in standing dead trees in winter. Piles of sawdust grow under the entrances to their homes as the ants throw that waste wood out of their burrows. Those excavations protect the ant colonies where they live and rear young. But pileated woodpeckers chip vertically rectangular holes in dead wood of trees to extract and consume carpenter ants.
Various kinds of bark beetles are small, and live and pupate between the dead wood and bark of standing trees. They chew elaborate tunnels under the protective bark, which, to us, are beautifully intricate patterns when the bark falls away. Woodpeckers chip many bark beetles out of the wood and consume them.
Rounded galls on goldenrod stems were made by the larvae of spot-winged flies. Female flies lay eggs on new stems in late May. Each larva burrows into a stem and eats out a chamber. The irritated plant forms a gall around that chamber. The larva overwinters in that form, and in spring chews a tunnel to the surface wall of its home, pupates in its chamber and pushes through the final thin wall as an adult fly. We see the swollen part of the stem and the hole in it.
Elliptical goldenrod galls are formed by the larvae of a kind of small moth. In autumn, each adult, female moth lays eggs singly on the lower leaves and stems of goldenrods where those eggs overwinter. In the warmth of spring, the larvae hatch, crawl to new goldenrod shoots and dig into end buds to the stems where they feed on that vegetable material. The stem forms an elongated gall around each larva. In late July, each larva bores an exit hole in the upper end of its chamber and plugs it with its silk, and plant material. Then each larva pupates and emerges late in August as an adult moth. Elliptical galls are empty in winter.
In the middle of April, colonies of sibling tent caterpillars build webs in crotches of limbs on various kinds of cherry trees to protect themselves from birds and other insects that would consume them. Each day they leave their webbed nests to eat leaves. Their homes grow as they do and are soon littered with feces and shed skins. By late May they leave that webbing to pupate in the ground, later emerging as small moths ready to breed. The tattered webs remain in the trees until winter.
In August, colonies of sibling fall webworms build large webbed nests, mostly in black walnut trees. Webworms construct webs at the ends of leafy branches and enclose the foliage in those protective homes. They ingest leaves inside the web where they are better protected from birds and other critters that would eat them. The larvae leave the webs late in fall and pupate in the soil, leaving empty homes behind as reminders to us of their late-summer activities.
The one-inch-long bagworms are the larvae of a kind of small moth. These caterpillars carry their protective cocoons with them as they eat vegetation. Each larva covers its home with bits of the vegetable material, including that of northern white cedars and red junipers, it ingests, which camouflages that creature. Eventually it fastens its home to a twig and pupates inside it.
Emerging adult males have one-inch wingspans. Females don't develop wings or legs and never leave their cocoons. No adult eats anything. Males find females in the latters' homes and mate with them. Each female lays eggs in her cocoon and dies. The eggs overwinter in their mother's cocoon that reminds us of the moths' summer activities as caterpillars.
The summer activities of insects are fascinating, and we can see remnants of those life histories in winter. All we have to do is get out and look for them in any and every habitat.
The nests of two kinds of wasps and a related hornet are seen in winter with little effort. Northern paper wasps live in sunny, open habitats. Adults of this species sip nectar, and juice from rotting fruit, while their larvae in their six-sided, paper cells consume insects caught, pre-chewed and brought to the larvae by adult wasps.
In spring, about a dozen reddish-brown and yellow-ringed female paper wasps work together to make an uncovered paper nest of several cells that they attach up-side-down to an overhanging boulder, roof or other sheltering place. Cell openings point down to shed rain. Each paper nest of these wasps is constructed of chewed wood and the wasps' saliva.
Worker female black and yellow mud dauber wasps gather small bits of mud and shape them into a few vertical, side-by-side, tubular cells, each over two inches long, under roofs, cliffs and other protective niches. Each tube has a few compartments. A paralyzed spider is deposited in each cell, a wasp egg is laid on each spider and the cell is closed off with mud. Each larva eats its spider, pupates in its cell and emerges as an adult. Adult wasps ingest flower nectar.
Worker female bald-faced hornets chew wood and mix it with their saliva to make football-sized, paper nests in deciduous trees on lawns and in woods and meadows. Each hornet nest is composed of many six-sided cells inside, completely covered by a few layers of gray paper with an entrance in the bottom of that nursery. All adult hornets sip flower nectar, but larvae eat pre-chewed insects, delivered to them in their cells by the adults. In fall, males and female workers die and the queen of each colony burrows into the soil to await spring. Therefore, each decorative nest is empty in mid-winter and can be safely collected with no harm to hornets or people. The hornets will never use that nursery again.
Small groups of female eastern carpenter bees are so-named because each one of them chews round holes the size of their bodies and a few inches deep in the undersides of dead wood in trees and human-made structures, including fence railings and covered bridges. Each female places a ball of pollen and nectar in the back of the tube she chewed out and lays an egg on that ball. Then she seals off that chamber with wood chips and places another ball of pollen and nectar in the next chamber to the front, lays an egg on it and seals it. She continues that until her burrow is full and sealed off. Each larva consumes its food, pupates in its chamber and emerges as an adult.
The predatory praying mantises survive winter in the egg stage in round, beige-colored, styrofoam-like masses, each about one inch across and attached to a weed or twig in an overgrown field. Each female exudes froth as she lays eggs at some time in October. That froth hardens and protects the embryos inside until they hatch the next May.
One can see the tunnels of carpenter ants in standing dead trees in winter. Piles of sawdust grow under the entrances to their homes as the ants throw that waste wood out of their burrows. Those excavations protect the ant colonies where they live and rear young. But pileated woodpeckers chip vertically rectangular holes in dead wood of trees to extract and consume carpenter ants.
Various kinds of bark beetles are small, and live and pupate between the dead wood and bark of standing trees. They chew elaborate tunnels under the protective bark, which, to us, are beautifully intricate patterns when the bark falls away. Woodpeckers chip many bark beetles out of the wood and consume them.
Rounded galls on goldenrod stems were made by the larvae of spot-winged flies. Female flies lay eggs on new stems in late May. Each larva burrows into a stem and eats out a chamber. The irritated plant forms a gall around that chamber. The larva overwinters in that form, and in spring chews a tunnel to the surface wall of its home, pupates in its chamber and pushes through the final thin wall as an adult fly. We see the swollen part of the stem and the hole in it.
Elliptical goldenrod galls are formed by the larvae of a kind of small moth. In autumn, each adult, female moth lays eggs singly on the lower leaves and stems of goldenrods where those eggs overwinter. In the warmth of spring, the larvae hatch, crawl to new goldenrod shoots and dig into end buds to the stems where they feed on that vegetable material. The stem forms an elongated gall around each larva. In late July, each larva bores an exit hole in the upper end of its chamber and plugs it with its silk, and plant material. Then each larva pupates and emerges late in August as an adult moth. Elliptical galls are empty in winter.
In the middle of April, colonies of sibling tent caterpillars build webs in crotches of limbs on various kinds of cherry trees to protect themselves from birds and other insects that would consume them. Each day they leave their webbed nests to eat leaves. Their homes grow as they do and are soon littered with feces and shed skins. By late May they leave that webbing to pupate in the ground, later emerging as small moths ready to breed. The tattered webs remain in the trees until winter.
In August, colonies of sibling fall webworms build large webbed nests, mostly in black walnut trees. Webworms construct webs at the ends of leafy branches and enclose the foliage in those protective homes. They ingest leaves inside the web where they are better protected from birds and other critters that would eat them. The larvae leave the webs late in fall and pupate in the soil, leaving empty homes behind as reminders to us of their late-summer activities.
The one-inch-long bagworms are the larvae of a kind of small moth. These caterpillars carry their protective cocoons with them as they eat vegetation. Each larva covers its home with bits of the vegetable material, including that of northern white cedars and red junipers, it ingests, which camouflages that creature. Eventually it fastens its home to a twig and pupates inside it.
Emerging adult males have one-inch wingspans. Females don't develop wings or legs and never leave their cocoons. No adult eats anything. Males find females in the latters' homes and mate with them. Each female lays eggs in her cocoon and dies. The eggs overwinter in their mother's cocoon that reminds us of the moths' summer activities as caterpillars.
The summer activities of insects are fascinating, and we can see remnants of those life histories in winter. All we have to do is get out and look for them in any and every habitat.
Friday, November 10, 2017
Beauty in the Everyday
I visited Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area for an hour and a half on November 6 of this year to see what water birds were on the various human-made impoundments. Several kinds of the usual birds were there for this time of year, including hundreds of Canada geese on the water and in the air, accompanied by their excited and exciting honking.
There were the usual kinds of puddle ducks, for Middle Creek, on those impoundments. A couple dozen black ducks were scattered on a few ponds and the main lake and about 12 mallard ducks were all in one group on one pond. And there were a few individuals each of northern pintails, gadwalls and northern shovelers on a couple small impoundments.
I saw two kinds of diving ducks at Middle Creek, including about 20 each of ring-necked ducks and bufflehead ducks. There was an equal number of males and females among the ring-necks on one pond, but mostly female buffleheads on another small impoundment. Both these kinds of ducks were entertaining to watch diving and surfacing as they swam to the bottom of the impoundments to bring up aquatic vegetation to eat.
And there were three types of fish-eating birds visible at Middle Creek. Three double-crested cormorants roosted on tree stumps in a shallow part of the main lake. Apparently, they were resting between fishing forays. I saw at least six stately great blue herons wading slowly, carefully in the shallows of the big lake to snare fish, while an immature bald eagle perched majestically on a limb of golden leaves in a large, shoreline tree.
While watching, close at hand, scattered groups of Canada geese and black ducks resting quietly and peacefully in the gray shallows of the main lake under gray skies and against the deciduous woodland that still had some colored foliage along that impoundment's southern shore, I suddenly realized I was looking at an everyday, but beautiful scene suitable for painting or photographing. The resting gray geese and dark ducks blended into the water, dead tree stumps in the shallows and dead trees that fell into the water near the shoreline, making them barely visible with the naked eye at first. Some of the geese and ducks sat on the dead stumps and fallen trees, while others of both species floated on the water. Meanwhile, a couple of great blues stalked fish among the stumps, fallen logs and waterfowl, while the camouflaged, but regal eagle seemed to survey his domain.
The somber feathering of the geese, ducks, herons and eagle all blended into their gray and dark-brown autumn and winter surroundings. Yet all those birds and their gray-brown surroundings were attractive in their simplicity, and utility to hide the birds in their niches. The water, dead trees and large water birds all fit together, as the birds fit perfectly in their habitat. And everything together made a pretty picture that I carry in my memory.
There are innumerable, beautiful pictures of everyday landscapes, plants and wildlife throughout the world that are worthy of painting or photographing. One only has to have the God-given ability to see beauty in those commonplace settings. And there is a comfort in viewing ordinary beauties close to home.
Look for the beauties and intrigues of the common, everyday plants and wildlife in any habitat you happen to be in. There is as much beauty in nature at home as anywhere else on Earth. One just has to look for it.
There were the usual kinds of puddle ducks, for Middle Creek, on those impoundments. A couple dozen black ducks were scattered on a few ponds and the main lake and about 12 mallard ducks were all in one group on one pond. And there were a few individuals each of northern pintails, gadwalls and northern shovelers on a couple small impoundments.
I saw two kinds of diving ducks at Middle Creek, including about 20 each of ring-necked ducks and bufflehead ducks. There was an equal number of males and females among the ring-necks on one pond, but mostly female buffleheads on another small impoundment. Both these kinds of ducks were entertaining to watch diving and surfacing as they swam to the bottom of the impoundments to bring up aquatic vegetation to eat.
And there were three types of fish-eating birds visible at Middle Creek. Three double-crested cormorants roosted on tree stumps in a shallow part of the main lake. Apparently, they were resting between fishing forays. I saw at least six stately great blue herons wading slowly, carefully in the shallows of the big lake to snare fish, while an immature bald eagle perched majestically on a limb of golden leaves in a large, shoreline tree.
While watching, close at hand, scattered groups of Canada geese and black ducks resting quietly and peacefully in the gray shallows of the main lake under gray skies and against the deciduous woodland that still had some colored foliage along that impoundment's southern shore, I suddenly realized I was looking at an everyday, but beautiful scene suitable for painting or photographing. The resting gray geese and dark ducks blended into the water, dead tree stumps in the shallows and dead trees that fell into the water near the shoreline, making them barely visible with the naked eye at first. Some of the geese and ducks sat on the dead stumps and fallen trees, while others of both species floated on the water. Meanwhile, a couple of great blues stalked fish among the stumps, fallen logs and waterfowl, while the camouflaged, but regal eagle seemed to survey his domain.
The somber feathering of the geese, ducks, herons and eagle all blended into their gray and dark-brown autumn and winter surroundings. Yet all those birds and their gray-brown surroundings were attractive in their simplicity, and utility to hide the birds in their niches. The water, dead trees and large water birds all fit together, as the birds fit perfectly in their habitat. And everything together made a pretty picture that I carry in my memory.
There are innumerable, beautiful pictures of everyday landscapes, plants and wildlife throughout the world that are worthy of painting or photographing. One only has to have the God-given ability to see beauty in those commonplace settings. And there is a comfort in viewing ordinary beauties close to home.
Look for the beauties and intrigues of the common, everyday plants and wildlife in any habitat you happen to be in. There is as much beauty in nature at home as anywhere else on Earth. One just has to look for it.
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
A Few Food Chains
For nearly two hours on the warm, sunny afternoon of November 2, 2017, I drove slowly through cropland just outside New Holland, Pennsylvania to see colored foliage and whatever wildlife was visible. I stopped here and there to enjoy nature more closely. Red maple, red oak, pin oak, white oak and staghorn sumac trees had red leaves and tulip trees, shagbark hickories and sassafras trees had yellow ones, making striking displays of autumn foliage along hedgerows, and in fields and pastures where lone trees exist.
I didn't see a big variety of wildlife that afternoon, but what I did notice made me think again about food chains in the wild, including in farmland. For example, I stopped for about 15 minutes at the edge of a two-acre patch of red juniper trees because I saw that some of those junipers had many cones on them. Those cones are berry-like, light-blue in color and attractive in themselves, and in the pretty, interesting birds that consume them, including American robins, eastern bluebirds, cedar waxwings, yellow-rumped warblers and other kinds of birds wintering in this area.
A flock of American robins were feasting on those tiny cones while I was watching the junipers. Those wintering birds darted from tree to tree to eat cones and some robins dropped to the ground, presumably to ingest invertebrates on that warm afternoon. Those birds digest the pulp of the cones, but pass the seeds in their droppings wherever they go, thus spreading the juniper species.
The attractive, green-needled junipers, their pretty cones and the feeding robins presented a lovely, peaceful scene. But if a Cooper's hawk showed up among those junipers, the scene would be different in an instant. The robins, and any other types of birds, would vanish immediately. Coop's prey on starlings, robins, mourning doves, rock pigeons and other kinds of medium-sized birds. And this type of hawk, with its short, powerful wings and long, steering tail, is built for speedy, maneuverable flight among trees to catch panicky, dodging birds.
I drove on a quarter of a mile and stopped at a one-acre park of several large red oaks, white oaks and shagbark hickories across a rural road from a deciduous woodlot and a couple of lawns that had red maples, pin oaks and other kinds of trees in them. Several gray squirrels and an eastern chipmunk were busily scurrying on the ground in the park to gather and store acorns and hickory nuts for use this coming winter. Squirrels stash their edible prizes, one at a time, in tree cavities and little holes they dig in the soil; one nut per hole. Chippies, however, fill their twin cheek pouches with acorns and other edibles and run down their underground burrows to a storage chamber where they empty their cheeks, then leave their dens to look for more food. Squirrels and chipmunks gather nuts much of each day for several days in fall to ensure their survival in winter.
The large, strong red-tailed hawks, and other predators, prey on the daytime-active squirrels and chipmunks. Some of the acorns and other nuts those rodents buried in the ground, therefore, are not eaten by them. Those nuts sprout into new, seedling oak and hickory trees, ensuring a supply of edible nuts in the future. Death for some rodents is life for others in the future.
While the gray squirrels and chippies rustled among colorful, fallen leaves on the ground to find nuts, a handful of striking, but silent, blue jays flew in and out of a beautiful pin oak tree across the road from the park. Time after time, each of those jays plucked an acorn from its twig and flew off with the nut in its beak to store it in a tree hollow or the ground for winter use. Each jay pokes a hole in the soil with its strong, black bill, pushes the nut into that depression and pulls soil back over it with its bill. This they do much of each day for several days in fall. But some of those little acorns sprout the next spring.
Cooper's hawks are big and strong enough to catch and kill blue jays for food. Those hawks watch the jays at work and look for opportunities to ambush one or more. The jays do their best to escape by swerving in mid-air and diving into shrubbery, but Coop's are swift on the wing, can change direction "on a dime" and plunge into shrubbery after their intended prey, all in a flash.
These are only a few local food chains in farmland. There are innumerable other food chains throughout Earth. And they make our lives more interesting when we notice some of them.
I didn't see a big variety of wildlife that afternoon, but what I did notice made me think again about food chains in the wild, including in farmland. For example, I stopped for about 15 minutes at the edge of a two-acre patch of red juniper trees because I saw that some of those junipers had many cones on them. Those cones are berry-like, light-blue in color and attractive in themselves, and in the pretty, interesting birds that consume them, including American robins, eastern bluebirds, cedar waxwings, yellow-rumped warblers and other kinds of birds wintering in this area.
A flock of American robins were feasting on those tiny cones while I was watching the junipers. Those wintering birds darted from tree to tree to eat cones and some robins dropped to the ground, presumably to ingest invertebrates on that warm afternoon. Those birds digest the pulp of the cones, but pass the seeds in their droppings wherever they go, thus spreading the juniper species.
The attractive, green-needled junipers, their pretty cones and the feeding robins presented a lovely, peaceful scene. But if a Cooper's hawk showed up among those junipers, the scene would be different in an instant. The robins, and any other types of birds, would vanish immediately. Coop's prey on starlings, robins, mourning doves, rock pigeons and other kinds of medium-sized birds. And this type of hawk, with its short, powerful wings and long, steering tail, is built for speedy, maneuverable flight among trees to catch panicky, dodging birds.
I drove on a quarter of a mile and stopped at a one-acre park of several large red oaks, white oaks and shagbark hickories across a rural road from a deciduous woodlot and a couple of lawns that had red maples, pin oaks and other kinds of trees in them. Several gray squirrels and an eastern chipmunk were busily scurrying on the ground in the park to gather and store acorns and hickory nuts for use this coming winter. Squirrels stash their edible prizes, one at a time, in tree cavities and little holes they dig in the soil; one nut per hole. Chippies, however, fill their twin cheek pouches with acorns and other edibles and run down their underground burrows to a storage chamber where they empty their cheeks, then leave their dens to look for more food. Squirrels and chipmunks gather nuts much of each day for several days in fall to ensure their survival in winter.
The large, strong red-tailed hawks, and other predators, prey on the daytime-active squirrels and chipmunks. Some of the acorns and other nuts those rodents buried in the ground, therefore, are not eaten by them. Those nuts sprout into new, seedling oak and hickory trees, ensuring a supply of edible nuts in the future. Death for some rodents is life for others in the future.
While the gray squirrels and chippies rustled among colorful, fallen leaves on the ground to find nuts, a handful of striking, but silent, blue jays flew in and out of a beautiful pin oak tree across the road from the park. Time after time, each of those jays plucked an acorn from its twig and flew off with the nut in its beak to store it in a tree hollow or the ground for winter use. Each jay pokes a hole in the soil with its strong, black bill, pushes the nut into that depression and pulls soil back over it with its bill. This they do much of each day for several days in fall. But some of those little acorns sprout the next spring.
Cooper's hawks are big and strong enough to catch and kill blue jays for food. Those hawks watch the jays at work and look for opportunities to ambush one or more. The jays do their best to escape by swerving in mid-air and diving into shrubbery, but Coop's are swift on the wing, can change direction "on a dime" and plunge into shrubbery after their intended prey, all in a flash.
These are only a few local food chains in farmland. There are innumerable other food chains throughout Earth. And they make our lives more interesting when we notice some of them.
Saturday, November 4, 2017
An Hour of Farmland Hawks
I suddenly saw the northern harrier cruising slowly into the wind and low over a field of red clover and foxtail grass. Its long, stretched-out wings tilted slightly from side to side as the hawk constantly stabilized itself in the south wind. That hawk of marshes, salt marshes and other open habitats was hunting field mice and small birds. And if that immature raptor had detected prey, it would have dropped to the ground to seize it in its long, sharp talons.
For an hour on the late afternoon of October 30 of this year, I was driving on rural roads in farmland just south of New Holland, Pennsylvania. It was a lovely, sunny day, but with cold wind typical of late october. I was out to see birds or any other kinds of wildlife, as well as pretty scenery and colored foliage on trees in meadows and fields.
I did see a few kinds of adaptable, common birds during that hour of driving through cropland, including rock pigeons perched on silos and mourning doves sitting in partly-bare trees or flying over fields. I also saw a few blue jays flying from hedgerow to hedgerow and a northern mockingbird in a multiflora rose bush in one of those hedges between fields. And I saw a few pairs of mallard ducks swimming on a stream and a small flock of horned larks eating seeds on a recently plowed field.
But it was the hawks and a bald eagle I noticed among the fields that made my little trip that afternoon the most interesting. As I was driving out of New Holland and into the surrounding cropland, I saw a Cooper's hawk flying low and fast toward town. It probably was in farmland all day to catch pigeons, doves, starlings and other birds and was now going to New Holland to perch overnight high in a tall spruce tree.
Although Cooper's hawks traditionally live and hunt birds in woodlands, some pairs of them raise young in older suburban areas with tall coniferous trees. A couple pairs of these raptors hatch offspring high in sheltering conifers in New Holland every year in recent years. Perhaps that Coop was from one of those local families and it was going home to roost for the night.
A little farther out of town, I saw a large, dark bird circling over the farmland ahead. I stopped the car and trained my 16 power binoculars on it. I saw its white tail when it turned in the sky! It was a majestic adult bald eagle!!
That eagle could have been a migrant going south for the winter. Or it might have been a locally living bird because a pair of balds have raised at least a few pairs of young just outside of New Holland in recent years. That eagle may have been one of the old pair, or one of their older young.
I spotted the harrier a few minutes after I saw the eagle. That harrier, no doubt, was a migrant from farther north or west because none of its kind nests here in southeastern Pennsylvania. They are always a thrill to spot because they are big, graceful and pass through here in limited numbers.
Moving along, I saw a pretty male American kestrel on a roadside wire in the farmland I was in. He might have been a locally-hatched bird or a migrant, as both are here at this time of year. Either way, he was watching the grassy, weedy roadside shoulders for mice and grasshoppers to eat.
I parked along another stretch of country road to scan nearby fields and hedgerows for birds and mammals. There is where I saw the mockingbird and jays. And I spotted a stately, immature red-tailed hawk perched on a dead limb of a live tree in a mid-field clump of tall trees. That raptor was watching for gray squirrels, field mice and any other creatures it could catch and kill. As I watched it, the red-tail took flight, circled a field a few times and landed on another dead branch on another live tree. This red-tail could have been a migrant or a locally-hatched bird, as several pairs of red-tails nest in lone trees in fields and pastures, and wood lots, in this area.
Though I looked for wildlife in Lancaster County cropland for only an hour, I was thrilled and inspired by the beautiful scenery, lovely weather and wonderful birds I saw in that human-made habitat. It was time well spent.
For an hour on the late afternoon of October 30 of this year, I was driving on rural roads in farmland just south of New Holland, Pennsylvania. It was a lovely, sunny day, but with cold wind typical of late october. I was out to see birds or any other kinds of wildlife, as well as pretty scenery and colored foliage on trees in meadows and fields.
I did see a few kinds of adaptable, common birds during that hour of driving through cropland, including rock pigeons perched on silos and mourning doves sitting in partly-bare trees or flying over fields. I also saw a few blue jays flying from hedgerow to hedgerow and a northern mockingbird in a multiflora rose bush in one of those hedges between fields. And I saw a few pairs of mallard ducks swimming on a stream and a small flock of horned larks eating seeds on a recently plowed field.
But it was the hawks and a bald eagle I noticed among the fields that made my little trip that afternoon the most interesting. As I was driving out of New Holland and into the surrounding cropland, I saw a Cooper's hawk flying low and fast toward town. It probably was in farmland all day to catch pigeons, doves, starlings and other birds and was now going to New Holland to perch overnight high in a tall spruce tree.
Although Cooper's hawks traditionally live and hunt birds in woodlands, some pairs of them raise young in older suburban areas with tall coniferous trees. A couple pairs of these raptors hatch offspring high in sheltering conifers in New Holland every year in recent years. Perhaps that Coop was from one of those local families and it was going home to roost for the night.
A little farther out of town, I saw a large, dark bird circling over the farmland ahead. I stopped the car and trained my 16 power binoculars on it. I saw its white tail when it turned in the sky! It was a majestic adult bald eagle!!
That eagle could have been a migrant going south for the winter. Or it might have been a locally living bird because a pair of balds have raised at least a few pairs of young just outside of New Holland in recent years. That eagle may have been one of the old pair, or one of their older young.
I spotted the harrier a few minutes after I saw the eagle. That harrier, no doubt, was a migrant from farther north or west because none of its kind nests here in southeastern Pennsylvania. They are always a thrill to spot because they are big, graceful and pass through here in limited numbers.
Moving along, I saw a pretty male American kestrel on a roadside wire in the farmland I was in. He might have been a locally-hatched bird or a migrant, as both are here at this time of year. Either way, he was watching the grassy, weedy roadside shoulders for mice and grasshoppers to eat.
I parked along another stretch of country road to scan nearby fields and hedgerows for birds and mammals. There is where I saw the mockingbird and jays. And I spotted a stately, immature red-tailed hawk perched on a dead limb of a live tree in a mid-field clump of tall trees. That raptor was watching for gray squirrels, field mice and any other creatures it could catch and kill. As I watched it, the red-tail took flight, circled a field a few times and landed on another dead branch on another live tree. This red-tail could have been a migrant or a locally-hatched bird, as several pairs of red-tails nest in lone trees in fields and pastures, and wood lots, in this area.
Though I looked for wildlife in Lancaster County cropland for only an hour, I was thrilled and inspired by the beautiful scenery, lovely weather and wonderful birds I saw in that human-made habitat. It was time well spent.
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Beauty in a Bottomland Woods
Yesterday, October 31, 2017, I went to Mt. Gretna, Pennsylvania to enjoy the sunlight, cool breezes and colored leaves of late autumn, and to see what critters were visible in its eight-acre, human-made impoundment, and the upstream, bottomland woods along the stream-sized, woods-flanked Conewago Creek that flows into that lake. Woods-shrouded Conewago Creek parallels Route 117 on one side of that road which runs by Mt. Gretna on a wooded slope on the other side of the road.
I started at the impoundment that was beautifully ringed mostly by red maple trees that had red leaves on October 31, white oak trees with red and brown foliage and an understory of speckled alder bushes. A group of eight Canada geese were standing on a small lawn of short grass on a shore of the lake, while a flock of about 24 mallard ducks floated in shallow water along a shore of that impoundment. The ducks were restless, swimming about from spot to spot on the lake, and I noticed a drake pintail duck and a pair of black ducks swimming with the mallards. The mallards may have been locally-hatched birds, but the pintail and black ducks definitely were migrants.
As I watched the geese and mallards for a few minutes, I saw a belted kingfisher fly from tree to tree and a migrant double-crested cormorant perched on a shoreline tree. Both these birds are catchers of small fish and so make meals of the young bluegill sunfish that live in this lake. Kingfishers snare fish by diving, beak-first, from perches on tree limbs or other shoreline objects, and hovering into the wind on rapidly beating wings and dropping head-first into the water to snatch their prey with their long bills. Cormorants float on the water like ducks and boats, dive under water from the surface, swim with their webbed feet and grab fish in their long beaks.
As I walked into the wooded bottomland from Route 117, I crossed a little, wooden foot-bridge and peered into the water. Their little schools of black-nosed dace, a kind of small, stream-lined fish, swam upstream in alarm of my presence on shore. Green herons, northern water snakes and kingfishers make meals of dace when they are along this creek.
As I walked farther into the bottomland woods, I saw many tall, stately tulip trees, red oaks and white pines. There was still much pretty, colored foliage on the tulip trees and oaks, but there also was a carpet of crunchy leaves from both those trees on the forest floor. That woodland seemed particularly cheery looking because of the yellow tulip tree leaves on the trees and the ground at the same time.
I took a seat near the brook-sized Conewago Creek in a wooded bottomland that had a couple of tiny trickles of water running through it to the creek. There I sat quietly and waited for creatures to show up. As I waited, I saw many tulip tree seeds whirling down in the wind like a beige snowfall. Each seed is able to twirl some distance from its parent tree because of its thin blade, thus spreading the species across the landscape.
I also noticed the red berries on multiflora rose bushes in a little clearing in the woods, on spicebushes in the woodland understory and, especially, on the many winterberry shrubs in that same bottomland understory. All those red berries made that woods very attractive. And the spicebushes even had yellow foliage at the time.
While I sat and watched, I saw a blue jay perched in a tree, while a gray squirrel consumed winterberry berries. And I saw a small group of cedar waxwings fluttering out to catch flying insects in mid-air and return to perches to eat their victims.
A Carolina chickadee, a tufted titmouse, a ruby-crowned kinglet, a few golden-crowned kinglets and a pair of northern cardinals flitted among foliage and fed on tiny insects in the shrub layer of the woods. Meanwhile, a winter wren scurried about on the woodland floor like a feathered mouse. The wren was searching for tiny invertebrates to ingest. The chickadee relatives and the kinglets were camouflaged in their shrub layer, which helps protect them from predators. And the wren, being brown, blends into its niche of brown carpets of fallen leaves on forest floors. And chickadees and kinglets among shrubs don't compete for food with the wren on the ground.
Once again I noticed that many of the little forest birds are not visible for a while. Then, suddenly, there they are at once, scurrying and feeding, only to all suddenly disappear again. Maybe they all come out together to confuse predators. Or one bird may start feeding and the others take that as a sign that all is well and they come out to get food as well.
But the biggest mystery of the day was the dragonfly I saw land on a tiny patch of mud along a leaf-filled trickle in that wooded bottomland. The dragonfly was brown all over, with a lot of green spotting on its thorax and a little green on its abdomen. And it had four clear wings. I thought it to be a female because her abdomen was pushing against the mud as though she was depositing eggs in it. Though I looked through a couple of field guides to insects and the internet to identify her, I could not. But she was pretty and interesting anyway.
I was grateful to have been in a lovely woodland on a beautiful, late-fall day. And the wildlife added more enjoyment and excitement, and a bit of mystery, to the day
I started at the impoundment that was beautifully ringed mostly by red maple trees that had red leaves on October 31, white oak trees with red and brown foliage and an understory of speckled alder bushes. A group of eight Canada geese were standing on a small lawn of short grass on a shore of the lake, while a flock of about 24 mallard ducks floated in shallow water along a shore of that impoundment. The ducks were restless, swimming about from spot to spot on the lake, and I noticed a drake pintail duck and a pair of black ducks swimming with the mallards. The mallards may have been locally-hatched birds, but the pintail and black ducks definitely were migrants.
As I watched the geese and mallards for a few minutes, I saw a belted kingfisher fly from tree to tree and a migrant double-crested cormorant perched on a shoreline tree. Both these birds are catchers of small fish and so make meals of the young bluegill sunfish that live in this lake. Kingfishers snare fish by diving, beak-first, from perches on tree limbs or other shoreline objects, and hovering into the wind on rapidly beating wings and dropping head-first into the water to snatch their prey with their long bills. Cormorants float on the water like ducks and boats, dive under water from the surface, swim with their webbed feet and grab fish in their long beaks.
As I walked into the wooded bottomland from Route 117, I crossed a little, wooden foot-bridge and peered into the water. Their little schools of black-nosed dace, a kind of small, stream-lined fish, swam upstream in alarm of my presence on shore. Green herons, northern water snakes and kingfishers make meals of dace when they are along this creek.
As I walked farther into the bottomland woods, I saw many tall, stately tulip trees, red oaks and white pines. There was still much pretty, colored foliage on the tulip trees and oaks, but there also was a carpet of crunchy leaves from both those trees on the forest floor. That woodland seemed particularly cheery looking because of the yellow tulip tree leaves on the trees and the ground at the same time.
I took a seat near the brook-sized Conewago Creek in a wooded bottomland that had a couple of tiny trickles of water running through it to the creek. There I sat quietly and waited for creatures to show up. As I waited, I saw many tulip tree seeds whirling down in the wind like a beige snowfall. Each seed is able to twirl some distance from its parent tree because of its thin blade, thus spreading the species across the landscape.
I also noticed the red berries on multiflora rose bushes in a little clearing in the woods, on spicebushes in the woodland understory and, especially, on the many winterberry shrubs in that same bottomland understory. All those red berries made that woods very attractive. And the spicebushes even had yellow foliage at the time.
While I sat and watched, I saw a blue jay perched in a tree, while a gray squirrel consumed winterberry berries. And I saw a small group of cedar waxwings fluttering out to catch flying insects in mid-air and return to perches to eat their victims.
A Carolina chickadee, a tufted titmouse, a ruby-crowned kinglet, a few golden-crowned kinglets and a pair of northern cardinals flitted among foliage and fed on tiny insects in the shrub layer of the woods. Meanwhile, a winter wren scurried about on the woodland floor like a feathered mouse. The wren was searching for tiny invertebrates to ingest. The chickadee relatives and the kinglets were camouflaged in their shrub layer, which helps protect them from predators. And the wren, being brown, blends into its niche of brown carpets of fallen leaves on forest floors. And chickadees and kinglets among shrubs don't compete for food with the wren on the ground.
Once again I noticed that many of the little forest birds are not visible for a while. Then, suddenly, there they are at once, scurrying and feeding, only to all suddenly disappear again. Maybe they all come out together to confuse predators. Or one bird may start feeding and the others take that as a sign that all is well and they come out to get food as well.
But the biggest mystery of the day was the dragonfly I saw land on a tiny patch of mud along a leaf-filled trickle in that wooded bottomland. The dragonfly was brown all over, with a lot of green spotting on its thorax and a little green on its abdomen. And it had four clear wings. I thought it to be a female because her abdomen was pushing against the mud as though she was depositing eggs in it. Though I looked through a couple of field guides to insects and the internet to identify her, I could not. But she was pretty and interesting anyway.
I was grateful to have been in a lovely woodland on a beautiful, late-fall day. And the wildlife added more enjoyment and excitement, and a bit of mystery, to the day
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