Late this morning, as I was driving home through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland after a couple of errands, I crossed a clear stream and noticed a muskrat swimming in it. I stopped the car by that waterway and watched the muskrat exit the water and walk up a streambank to a meadow of short grass. There it pulled up grass with its teeth, then waddled back down to the stream with a wad of short grass in its mouth and swam upstream for several yards. Then that rodent with a beautiful fur coat dove under water and swam into a hole in the streambank at the water level. The muskrat made a few more trips of that nature while I watched. Perhaps it was a pregnant female making a nest in her den for her future babies.
The stream the muskrat lives in flows through a short-grass cow pasture, studded with large willow and silver maple trees. The day has been cold and windy, but clear with ample sunshine.
As I waited for the muskrat to show herself, and while watching her, I saw a small variety of wintering birds around that waterway. A pair of eastern bluebirds were flitting among twigs in one of the willows, while a small group of American goldfinches fed on weed seeds on a south-facing streambank along the waterway. Meanwhile, a little group of American pipits walked about on the short grass meadow, back a few yards from the waterway, in their search for tiny invertebrates among the grass roots to eat. The bluebirds and goldfinches might be local birds, but the pipits are down from the Arctic tundra for the winter.
And while watching the muskrat, I was happy to notice a red-tailed hawk soaring majestically on high. That diurnal raptor probably was watching for mice, squirrels or any other creatures it could attempt to capture for a meal. And a bit later, from the same spot by the waterway, I was thrilled to see a magnificent adult bald eagle soaring low over the surrounding cropland, possibly in search of carrion to ingest. Sometimes, several bald eagles winter in Lancaster County farmland to feed on dead livestock deposited on the fields.
I also saw a great blue heron, about a hundred yards back the stream, wading in the water to catch fish. And I noted a male belted kingfisher flying from tree limb to tree limb along the waterway. Kingfishers, too, catch fish by diving into the water from a tree branch or hovering into the wind.
As I watched the muskrat and kingfisher along the stream, I thought about how these species live and raise young in burrows they dig themselves in streambanks. Muskrats excavate burrow entrances at the usual water level, then tunnel up to a living chamber just under the grassroots level. These rodents, therefore, exit their tunnels in relative safety underwater and their living sections are far above the water line so the owners don't drown during floods.
Muskrat burrows are generally safe from most predators, but mink, which are semi-aquatic weasels, get into some muskrat dens, kill and eat the resident or residents and use the 'rats' homes for themselves. Some female mink even raise young in muskrat burrows.
Kingfisher pairs dig burrows near the top of streambanks, tunneling straight back a few feet to a nesting chamber. Their each pair rears several offspring on fish and other aquatic critters they catch in waterways and impoundments.
Pairs of rough-winged swallows use some abandoned kingfisher holes to raise their own youngsters. They feed their offspring on a diet of insects they catch in mid-air.
Muskrats and kingfishers live and raise young in tunnels they dig into streambanks. Those burrows are relatively safe to the creatures that created and use them, species that demonstrate how most every niche on Earth is occupied by some form of life.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Wintering Brookside Birds
After a snowfall of a few inches to several inches on the ground in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland, as elsewhere, a few kinds of small, wintering birds go to flowing, tinkling brooks, rivulets and seepages in open, sunny cow pastures to find food. The clear, running water keeps the narrow edges of those tiny, tumbling waterways free of ice and snow, allowing those little birds access to aquatic invertebrates in the mud and shallows of those shorelines.
Wilson's snipe, killdeer plovers, American pipits and song sparrows are the unrelated species of little birds most likely to frequent the muddy borders of brooks, rivulets and seepages after a snowfall to acquire invertebrates to eat. All these birds are brown on top, which blends them into their winter habitats of bare ground and mud, making them difficult to spot, especially when they are still.
Wilson's snipe winter exclusively along those tiny waterways. They are a kind of inland sandpiper that uses its long beak to probe the mud under inch-deep water to capture invertebrates. And while these handsome, dark-streaked shorebirds poke their bills rapidly up and down in the mud, their whole bodies do a bobbing dance. That dance may be a kind of camouflage in that it resembles objects floating and bouncing in the current of the waterways this sandpiper frequents to feed.
Snipe rest between feeding forays among tufts of grass on the shores of the tiny waterways they winter along. There they find respite from cold winds and predators such as merlins and peregrines.
Little groups and singles of killdeer plovers and American pipits roam wind-swept, bare fields, or nearly so, in search of invertebrates to consume. But when snow piles on the fields, burying their food, these species quickly go to shallow waters in pastures to find invertebrates. But because they have short beaks, they get their food from the surfaces of ice-free mud and slow water, thus reducing competition with snipe for invertebrates.
The robin-sized killdeer are brown on top and white below, with two black bars across their chests. They trot short distances across bare ground, stopping here and there to pick up an edible tidbit. Pipits are sparrow-sized, with two white outer tail feathers that are visible when they fly. Pipits pump their tails up and down when they walk along, which, again, may be a form of camouflage along flowing water. Pipits, by the way, raise young on the wide open Arctic tundra.
Song sparrows are permanent resident birds wherever they are. They do not migrate. This gray-brown and dark-streaked species shelters in thickets of bushes and tall weeds and grasses where they also feed on seeds of those plants. And they shelter in thickets along little waterways. There they run and hop across the mud and in inch-deep water to catch and eat invertebrates, as do the above-mentioned birds, adding still more beauty and interest to those tiny waters in sunny meadows.
When the snow melts in the fields and their soil is exposed again, the killdeer and pipits go back to feeding on invertebrates in those fields, which to the birds must be an ever-expanding buffet. But the snipe and song sparrows stay along brooks, trickles and seepages to find invertebrates.
All four of these species of small birds made the percolating, crystalline waters in sunny meadows more interesting and enjoyable for awhile. And the birds got food. Beauty and interest are where you find them.
Wilson's snipe, killdeer plovers, American pipits and song sparrows are the unrelated species of little birds most likely to frequent the muddy borders of brooks, rivulets and seepages after a snowfall to acquire invertebrates to eat. All these birds are brown on top, which blends them into their winter habitats of bare ground and mud, making them difficult to spot, especially when they are still.
Wilson's snipe winter exclusively along those tiny waterways. They are a kind of inland sandpiper that uses its long beak to probe the mud under inch-deep water to capture invertebrates. And while these handsome, dark-streaked shorebirds poke their bills rapidly up and down in the mud, their whole bodies do a bobbing dance. That dance may be a kind of camouflage in that it resembles objects floating and bouncing in the current of the waterways this sandpiper frequents to feed.
Snipe rest between feeding forays among tufts of grass on the shores of the tiny waterways they winter along. There they find respite from cold winds and predators such as merlins and peregrines.
Little groups and singles of killdeer plovers and American pipits roam wind-swept, bare fields, or nearly so, in search of invertebrates to consume. But when snow piles on the fields, burying their food, these species quickly go to shallow waters in pastures to find invertebrates. But because they have short beaks, they get their food from the surfaces of ice-free mud and slow water, thus reducing competition with snipe for invertebrates.
The robin-sized killdeer are brown on top and white below, with two black bars across their chests. They trot short distances across bare ground, stopping here and there to pick up an edible tidbit. Pipits are sparrow-sized, with two white outer tail feathers that are visible when they fly. Pipits pump their tails up and down when they walk along, which, again, may be a form of camouflage along flowing water. Pipits, by the way, raise young on the wide open Arctic tundra.
Song sparrows are permanent resident birds wherever they are. They do not migrate. This gray-brown and dark-streaked species shelters in thickets of bushes and tall weeds and grasses where they also feed on seeds of those plants. And they shelter in thickets along little waterways. There they run and hop across the mud and in inch-deep water to catch and eat invertebrates, as do the above-mentioned birds, adding still more beauty and interest to those tiny waters in sunny meadows.
When the snow melts in the fields and their soil is exposed again, the killdeer and pipits go back to feeding on invertebrates in those fields, which to the birds must be an ever-expanding buffet. But the snipe and song sparrows stay along brooks, trickles and seepages to find invertebrates.
All four of these species of small birds made the percolating, crystalline waters in sunny meadows more interesting and enjoyable for awhile. And the birds got food. Beauty and interest are where you find them.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Small Tundra Birds Wintering on Cropland
The extensive cropland of eastern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania in winter is usually silent, except for the whining of the bitter wind in one's ears and the occasional raucous cawing of crows. And racing along with the wind, writhing sheets of snow hiss dryly over the fields and drift into ever-changing sculptures. Here and there green shoots of living winter rye and beige, dead corn stubble poke above the snow. But few trees and even less hedgerows break the continuity of the featureless shelterless fields.
The agricultural practices that scour Lancaster County farmland clean of tall vegetation, or any plants, must remind a few species of small, Arctic tundra birds, this far south in search of food sources for the winter, of the tundra they left behind. With a snow cover on it, that cropland must look particularly like the tundra to those migrant birds. And because these small, feathered ambassadors from the far north, including horned larks, Lapland longspurs and snow buntings are adapted to extensive, wide-open spaces, many of them winter on Lancaster County's human-made croplands, bringing a bit of the tundra with them.
These species of birds are camouflaged on wind-swept fields of bare ground or low vegetation, which make them virtually invisible to predatory hawks, and us, until those birds take flight. If we watch and wait in farmland that was harvested to the ground in autumn, we'll see groups of these little birds sweep up in quick, erratic flight, the larks lisping quietly and the snow buntings buzzing harshly and flashing large, white wing patches that make them resemble big snow flakes tossed about in the wind. Soon their wild, swift circling flight ends when the birds slide down into the wind and bound low to the ground on alternately beating and gliding wings. Abruptly they drop to the ground and immediately disappear among the snowdrifts and clods of soil exposed by the wind.
Each of these tundra species wintering here are either in pure flocks of their own or in mixed groups. Sometimes all four of the kinds of birds mentioned above are in the same flock, flying and feeding together. And all these species, except pipits, feed on weed and grass seeds and bits of corn lying in the fields. And all these species, except pipits, scratch through manure cast on top of the snow to get bits of chewed, but undigested, corn when seeds and corn kernels are buried in snow.
Horned larks are, by far, the most common of these small birds wintering on Lancaster County's extensive farmland. Many pairs of this kind nest on Lancaster County fields, which is risky for them because of the plowing and discing that can ruin clutches of eggs in their teacup-sized, soil nurseries dug by the birds themselves into the ground. The lark pairs keep trying from early spring into summer, until they get a brood fledged.
By autumn, many more horned larks come south, seeking food for the winter, thousands of which settle in Lancaster County. These migrants greatly bolster the numbers of their permanent resident relatives here.
Attractive birds in a plain way, horned larks are brown on top, which blends them into their surroundings. They have two black feather tufts on top of their heads, hence their name, and black bibs. But the rest of their face is yellow.
A few sparrow-like Lapland longspurs winter in flocks of horned larks, but not in groups of their own. This species is brown with streaking, has white outer tail feathers, and males each have a faded black bib.
Snow buntings are brown and white, which blends them into snowy fields. They sometimes mix with horned larks, but generally are in flocks of their own. However, buntings are not this far south every winter, but are here erratically.
These seemingly insignificant bird species add much interest and beauty to extensive, wind-swept fields in winter, a habitat they are well adapted to. But they are most easily seen after a snowfall when they are drawn to rural roads to eat tiny bits of stone that grind the seeds in their stomachs.
The agricultural practices that scour Lancaster County farmland clean of tall vegetation, or any plants, must remind a few species of small, Arctic tundra birds, this far south in search of food sources for the winter, of the tundra they left behind. With a snow cover on it, that cropland must look particularly like the tundra to those migrant birds. And because these small, feathered ambassadors from the far north, including horned larks, Lapland longspurs and snow buntings are adapted to extensive, wide-open spaces, many of them winter on Lancaster County's human-made croplands, bringing a bit of the tundra with them.
These species of birds are camouflaged on wind-swept fields of bare ground or low vegetation, which make them virtually invisible to predatory hawks, and us, until those birds take flight. If we watch and wait in farmland that was harvested to the ground in autumn, we'll see groups of these little birds sweep up in quick, erratic flight, the larks lisping quietly and the snow buntings buzzing harshly and flashing large, white wing patches that make them resemble big snow flakes tossed about in the wind. Soon their wild, swift circling flight ends when the birds slide down into the wind and bound low to the ground on alternately beating and gliding wings. Abruptly they drop to the ground and immediately disappear among the snowdrifts and clods of soil exposed by the wind.
Each of these tundra species wintering here are either in pure flocks of their own or in mixed groups. Sometimes all four of the kinds of birds mentioned above are in the same flock, flying and feeding together. And all these species, except pipits, feed on weed and grass seeds and bits of corn lying in the fields. And all these species, except pipits, scratch through manure cast on top of the snow to get bits of chewed, but undigested, corn when seeds and corn kernels are buried in snow.
Horned larks are, by far, the most common of these small birds wintering on Lancaster County's extensive farmland. Many pairs of this kind nest on Lancaster County fields, which is risky for them because of the plowing and discing that can ruin clutches of eggs in their teacup-sized, soil nurseries dug by the birds themselves into the ground. The lark pairs keep trying from early spring into summer, until they get a brood fledged.
By autumn, many more horned larks come south, seeking food for the winter, thousands of which settle in Lancaster County. These migrants greatly bolster the numbers of their permanent resident relatives here.
Attractive birds in a plain way, horned larks are brown on top, which blends them into their surroundings. They have two black feather tufts on top of their heads, hence their name, and black bibs. But the rest of their face is yellow.
A few sparrow-like Lapland longspurs winter in flocks of horned larks, but not in groups of their own. This species is brown with streaking, has white outer tail feathers, and males each have a faded black bib.
Snow buntings are brown and white, which blends them into snowy fields. They sometimes mix with horned larks, but generally are in flocks of their own. However, buntings are not this far south every winter, but are here erratically.
These seemingly insignificant bird species add much interest and beauty to extensive, wind-swept fields in winter, a habitat they are well adapted to. But they are most easily seen after a snowfall when they are drawn to rural roads to eat tiny bits of stone that grind the seeds in their stomachs.
Monday, December 18, 2017
Adaptable, Inland Ring-bills
The leisurely, direct and powerful flight of ring-billed gulls is poetry. Their graceful soaring on high on long, supple, swept-back wings is a natural masterpiece of elegance. Tipping this way and that on black-tipped wings to make mid-air turns, whirls of many ring-bills search for winds and thermals that will carry them higher and higher with perfect ease and grace. And adaptable as they are beautiful in flight, ring-bills are lovely, interesting additions to inland, human-made habitats, including land fills, blacktop parking lots, bare-ground fields and extensive lawns, where they get much of their food through each winter. Those gulls are pre-adapted to those built, open habitats because they evolved on coastal beaches, mud flats and salt marshes. And because of their adjustments to human-made environments and activities, they have increased their numbers greatly in recent years.
Hundreds of thousands of ring-billed gulls winter in the Middle Atlantic States because of the Delaware and Susquehanna Rivers, the upper Chesapeake Bay and several inland, human-made impoundments, including the Octoraro Lake, Struble Lake and Blue Marsh Lake, where they roost overnight on water, or ice, and mid-river boulders. And every winter morning, long, straggly lines, "V" formations and scattered bunches of ring-bills leave those waters and power gracefully across the sky to feeding areas, particularly landfills these days.
Blizzards of swirling white and pale-gray ring-bills settle on landfills in the Mid-Atlantic States to consume edible garbage, along with swarms of starlings, scores of vultures of two kinds and flocks of American crows. The gulls are so sure of their ability to take flight when necessary and used to the big trucks bringing in garbage, that they swarm in flight all around those huge vehicles as they dump garbage in the landfills.
The adaptable ring-billed gulls have other sources of food through each winter. They plunk down on blacktop parking lots to ingest French fries, bread crumbs and other edibles thrown out by careless humans. And they eat earthworms and other invertebrates off bare-ground fields, extensive lawns and country, blacktop roads, particularly after heavy or prolonged rains.
In November and March, when local soil is likely to be soft enough for plowing, many ring-bills associate that plowing with food and drop to the fields to ingest it. They land in furrows behind the forward-moving plow blades to grab and consume exposed earthworms and other invertebrates. Amid much flapping and calling, flocks of ring-bills form "pinwheels" of themselves as gulls in the back of the trenches fly forward, over their fellows in the furrows and drop into the ditches right behind the blades. Those bustling crowds of ring-bills, frantically competing for a limited food supply, make interesting, natural spectacles in our local fields.
Before impoundments freeze, ring-bills catch small fish from their surfaces. But when those still waters become glazed with ice, those gulls concentrate over turbulent waters that rushed down through turbines in hydroelectric dams on the Susquehanna to catch small fish that went through those turbines and welled up in the turbulence below each dam, either dead, injured or dazed, and easy pickings for the gulls. Great clouds of ring-bills swirl back and forth low over the agitated water, without collision with their feathered fellows, as each bird watches for vulnerable fish to grab in its beak and eat.
Some ring-billed gulls are pirates at times. They try to steal fish from common merganser ducks, pied-billed grebes and other diving, fish-eating birds that surface to swallow their catches.
Ring-bills, like many kinds of gulls, scavenge dead fish when that food is available on the water's surfaces and along shorelines. It's this looking for a variety of foods in a diversity of habitats that helps make ring-bills successful and abundant. Adapting is a key to success.
Ring-billed gulls are a large part of the Middle Atlantic States' wintering avifauna in open, human-made habitats because of the gulls' being preadapted to them. They are beautiful in flight, and highly successful in using built habitats, making them an abundant, intriguing species here in the Mid-Atlantic States.
Hundreds of thousands of ring-billed gulls winter in the Middle Atlantic States because of the Delaware and Susquehanna Rivers, the upper Chesapeake Bay and several inland, human-made impoundments, including the Octoraro Lake, Struble Lake and Blue Marsh Lake, where they roost overnight on water, or ice, and mid-river boulders. And every winter morning, long, straggly lines, "V" formations and scattered bunches of ring-bills leave those waters and power gracefully across the sky to feeding areas, particularly landfills these days.
Blizzards of swirling white and pale-gray ring-bills settle on landfills in the Mid-Atlantic States to consume edible garbage, along with swarms of starlings, scores of vultures of two kinds and flocks of American crows. The gulls are so sure of their ability to take flight when necessary and used to the big trucks bringing in garbage, that they swarm in flight all around those huge vehicles as they dump garbage in the landfills.
The adaptable ring-billed gulls have other sources of food through each winter. They plunk down on blacktop parking lots to ingest French fries, bread crumbs and other edibles thrown out by careless humans. And they eat earthworms and other invertebrates off bare-ground fields, extensive lawns and country, blacktop roads, particularly after heavy or prolonged rains.
In November and March, when local soil is likely to be soft enough for plowing, many ring-bills associate that plowing with food and drop to the fields to ingest it. They land in furrows behind the forward-moving plow blades to grab and consume exposed earthworms and other invertebrates. Amid much flapping and calling, flocks of ring-bills form "pinwheels" of themselves as gulls in the back of the trenches fly forward, over their fellows in the furrows and drop into the ditches right behind the blades. Those bustling crowds of ring-bills, frantically competing for a limited food supply, make interesting, natural spectacles in our local fields.
Before impoundments freeze, ring-bills catch small fish from their surfaces. But when those still waters become glazed with ice, those gulls concentrate over turbulent waters that rushed down through turbines in hydroelectric dams on the Susquehanna to catch small fish that went through those turbines and welled up in the turbulence below each dam, either dead, injured or dazed, and easy pickings for the gulls. Great clouds of ring-bills swirl back and forth low over the agitated water, without collision with their feathered fellows, as each bird watches for vulnerable fish to grab in its beak and eat.
Some ring-billed gulls are pirates at times. They try to steal fish from common merganser ducks, pied-billed grebes and other diving, fish-eating birds that surface to swallow their catches.
Ring-bills, like many kinds of gulls, scavenge dead fish when that food is available on the water's surfaces and along shorelines. It's this looking for a variety of foods in a diversity of habitats that helps make ring-bills successful and abundant. Adapting is a key to success.
Ring-billed gulls are a large part of the Middle Atlantic States' wintering avifauna in open, human-made habitats because of the gulls' being preadapted to them. They are beautiful in flight, and highly successful in using built habitats, making them an abundant, intriguing species here in the Mid-Atlantic States.
Friday, December 15, 2017
Two Beautiful Spruces
Red spruces and blue spruces are planted on lawns in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere, because they are attractive trees the year around. They both are forever green, which especially adds beauty to winter landscapes, including lawns, and have handsome, pyramidal shapes and lovely, rustic cones that hang from twigs and enhance their beauties.
Both these spruce species are native to North America. Red spruces evolved in northern New England and extreme southeastern Canada, the Adirondack Mountains and here and there in the Appalachian Mountains south to western North Carolina. Along with Fraser firs, red spruces are THEE coniferous trees on certain peaks of the Smoky Mountains, even forming almost pure stands of themselves here and there. Blue spruces are native to parts of the Rocky Mountain region.
Red spruces are not commonly planted on lawns, but are part of many suburban areas in southeastern Pennsylvania. They have small cones that help to identify this type of spruce. They are a fairly common, wild spruce in the Pocono Mountains in northeastern Pennsylvania. This species is shade tolerant when young, which helps it get established in the understories of bottomland forests where they are adapted.
Blue spruces are commonly planted on lawns because of the attractive silvery or pale-blue sheen on their young needles of the season. That is an unusual color among spruces in North America, which helps make this a popular species for planting. Older needles are green, which gives blue spruces a two-tone appearance through much of each year.
Blue spruce trees have other beauties as well. Young cones are bright red among the silvery-green needles of new growth, offering a lovely contrast of colors. And their mature, dead cones are light-beige, giving these evergreen trees more diversity of color.
Early in May in this area, the buds of new needles open on both species of conifers and the needles grow rapidly at the tip of every twig, offering yet another beauty to those evergreens.
When the cones of coniferous trees, both wild and planted, mature and die, the scales on each cone opens, which allows the winged seed under each scale the freedom to fall out of the cone and twirl away in the wind to the ground, usually some distance from the parent tree. Most seeds, however, are eaten by seed-eating, wintering birds, including two kinds of chickadees, two types of nuthatches, American goldfinches, pine siskins and other species. A variety of rodents, including mice and squirrels, eat a share of the seeds as well. Some birds and squirrels pick the seeds out of the cones while they are still attached to the trees. But mice, and many of the other species, eat conifer seeds off the ground where they came to rest.
Red spruces and blue spruces, like all spruces and firs, protect wildlife from cold winds and predators in winter and provide protective nurseries for certain kinds of birds to raise young in. Great horned owls perch in them by day throughout the year to rest. Red-tailed hawks, Cooper's hawks, mourning doves and American robins are some of the bird species that rest in them overnight through the year.
And all the bird species mentioned above, and others, raise young in these spruces and other kinds of conifers, in the wild and on lawns. Conifers are not only attractive to us, but benefit many kinds of wildlife as well.
Red spruces and blue spruces are planted on lawns for their many beauties. And those same conifers benefit certain kinds of adaptable birds and mammals as well. They provide wining situations on many lawns.
Both these spruce species are native to North America. Red spruces evolved in northern New England and extreme southeastern Canada, the Adirondack Mountains and here and there in the Appalachian Mountains south to western North Carolina. Along with Fraser firs, red spruces are THEE coniferous trees on certain peaks of the Smoky Mountains, even forming almost pure stands of themselves here and there. Blue spruces are native to parts of the Rocky Mountain region.
Red spruces are not commonly planted on lawns, but are part of many suburban areas in southeastern Pennsylvania. They have small cones that help to identify this type of spruce. They are a fairly common, wild spruce in the Pocono Mountains in northeastern Pennsylvania. This species is shade tolerant when young, which helps it get established in the understories of bottomland forests where they are adapted.
Blue spruces are commonly planted on lawns because of the attractive silvery or pale-blue sheen on their young needles of the season. That is an unusual color among spruces in North America, which helps make this a popular species for planting. Older needles are green, which gives blue spruces a two-tone appearance through much of each year.
Blue spruce trees have other beauties as well. Young cones are bright red among the silvery-green needles of new growth, offering a lovely contrast of colors. And their mature, dead cones are light-beige, giving these evergreen trees more diversity of color.
Early in May in this area, the buds of new needles open on both species of conifers and the needles grow rapidly at the tip of every twig, offering yet another beauty to those evergreens.
When the cones of coniferous trees, both wild and planted, mature and die, the scales on each cone opens, which allows the winged seed under each scale the freedom to fall out of the cone and twirl away in the wind to the ground, usually some distance from the parent tree. Most seeds, however, are eaten by seed-eating, wintering birds, including two kinds of chickadees, two types of nuthatches, American goldfinches, pine siskins and other species. A variety of rodents, including mice and squirrels, eat a share of the seeds as well. Some birds and squirrels pick the seeds out of the cones while they are still attached to the trees. But mice, and many of the other species, eat conifer seeds off the ground where they came to rest.
Red spruces and blue spruces, like all spruces and firs, protect wildlife from cold winds and predators in winter and provide protective nurseries for certain kinds of birds to raise young in. Great horned owls perch in them by day throughout the year to rest. Red-tailed hawks, Cooper's hawks, mourning doves and American robins are some of the bird species that rest in them overnight through the year.
And all the bird species mentioned above, and others, raise young in these spruces and other kinds of conifers, in the wild and on lawns. Conifers are not only attractive to us, but benefit many kinds of wildlife as well.
Red spruces and blue spruces are planted on lawns for their many beauties. And those same conifers benefit certain kinds of adaptable birds and mammals as well. They provide wining situations on many lawns.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Layers of Wintering Birds
While watching a few species of birds along the edge of a bottomland woodlot in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania for an hour one afternoon early in December, I thought about how different kinds of birds occupy a specific layer or more of woodland, though there is some overlap among the various bird species. The few types of birds I saw that afternoon were examples of various species using different levels of a deciduous woods.
A permanent resident song sparrow and a wintering winter wren were each along a stream at the edge of the woodland I was enjoying. Though these common species winter in different habitats, there was enough woods there to satisfy the wren and enough weedy edges to please the sparrow. Therefore, these two adaptable species were wintering in the same place, though it is unusual for these kinds of birds to live in the same environment.
However, the song sparrow and winter wren have traits in common. Both kinds are brown, which camouflages them in their common habitat of mud flats and gravel bars along small, flowing waterways. Both species feed on invertebrates through winter, though the sparrow also eats seeds. And the wren holes up for the night among tree roots at the waters' edge, while the sparrow nestles deeply in clumps of tall grasses and weeds.
I saw a resident male northern cardinal and a little, scattered group of wintering white-throated sparrows low in thickets of red-twigged dogwoods, spicebushes, burning bushes, and tall weeds and grasses in the south-facing, sunny edge of the woods near the waterway. These small birds were moving around and scratching up weed and grass seeds under the protective shrubbery. That cover will be handy if a hawk or cat stalks those busily feeding birds.
That afternoon, too, I saw a northern mockingbird, a few eastern bluebirds and a handful of cedar waxwings feeding on poison ivy berries on a vine halfway up a large tree. Devout berry eaters in winter, those little birds were attractive in the sunlight as they consumed those dirty-white berries. Probably full of berries, the mocker dove into a nearby shrub and stayed there to rest and digest in relative safety. And, within several minutes, the bluebirds and waxwings simply drifted away to safe places to rest and digest the berries they ingested.
A lone Carolina chickadee fluttered among buds, twigs and small limbs in the sapling layer of the woods as it looked for tiny invertebrates and their eggs in crevices. Chickadees, titmice and other kinds of small, woodland birds can be spotted in a few levels of a woods, but usually not in treetops in winter because they are vulnerable to cold wind.
I also noticed a northern flicker, which is a kind of woodpecker, and a red-bellied woodpecker in the treetops where they usually are. Both these handsome species were chipping with their sturdy beaks at loose bark and dead wood on limbs to dig out invertebrates living in those branches.
And I saw a turkey vulture and a pair of red-tailed hawks sailing over the treetops of that woodlot. The vulture was looking for carrion to eat while the red-tails were watching for gray squirrels to catch and ingest. These two kinds of soaring birds usually perch in the tops of trees when at rest.
To think of various kinds of birds occupying different layers of woodland is musing to some degree, but based a little on fact. Each species of life has its own niche, and each niche has its own level in a woods, lake or a lawn. Creatures living at different layers face reduced competition for food and shelter because each and every level in every environment is utilized.
A permanent resident song sparrow and a wintering winter wren were each along a stream at the edge of the woodland I was enjoying. Though these common species winter in different habitats, there was enough woods there to satisfy the wren and enough weedy edges to please the sparrow. Therefore, these two adaptable species were wintering in the same place, though it is unusual for these kinds of birds to live in the same environment.
However, the song sparrow and winter wren have traits in common. Both kinds are brown, which camouflages them in their common habitat of mud flats and gravel bars along small, flowing waterways. Both species feed on invertebrates through winter, though the sparrow also eats seeds. And the wren holes up for the night among tree roots at the waters' edge, while the sparrow nestles deeply in clumps of tall grasses and weeds.
I saw a resident male northern cardinal and a little, scattered group of wintering white-throated sparrows low in thickets of red-twigged dogwoods, spicebushes, burning bushes, and tall weeds and grasses in the south-facing, sunny edge of the woods near the waterway. These small birds were moving around and scratching up weed and grass seeds under the protective shrubbery. That cover will be handy if a hawk or cat stalks those busily feeding birds.
That afternoon, too, I saw a northern mockingbird, a few eastern bluebirds and a handful of cedar waxwings feeding on poison ivy berries on a vine halfway up a large tree. Devout berry eaters in winter, those little birds were attractive in the sunlight as they consumed those dirty-white berries. Probably full of berries, the mocker dove into a nearby shrub and stayed there to rest and digest in relative safety. And, within several minutes, the bluebirds and waxwings simply drifted away to safe places to rest and digest the berries they ingested.
A lone Carolina chickadee fluttered among buds, twigs and small limbs in the sapling layer of the woods as it looked for tiny invertebrates and their eggs in crevices. Chickadees, titmice and other kinds of small, woodland birds can be spotted in a few levels of a woods, but usually not in treetops in winter because they are vulnerable to cold wind.
I also noticed a northern flicker, which is a kind of woodpecker, and a red-bellied woodpecker in the treetops where they usually are. Both these handsome species were chipping with their sturdy beaks at loose bark and dead wood on limbs to dig out invertebrates living in those branches.
And I saw a turkey vulture and a pair of red-tailed hawks sailing over the treetops of that woodlot. The vulture was looking for carrion to eat while the red-tails were watching for gray squirrels to catch and ingest. These two kinds of soaring birds usually perch in the tops of trees when at rest.
To think of various kinds of birds occupying different layers of woodland is musing to some degree, but based a little on fact. Each species of life has its own niche, and each niche has its own level in a woods, lake or a lawn. Creatures living at different layers face reduced competition for food and shelter because each and every level in every environment is utilized.
Saturday, December 9, 2017
Enjoying Water Birds
Driving by a six-acre, human-made impoundment near Morgantown, Pennsylvania on December 8, 2017, I thought to stop and check the lake for water birds. I stopped at that lake three days ago and saw one stately great blue heron stalking fish in the shallows near a shoreline. But wintering birds shift around a lot and I wanted to see if any birds were on the lake on December 8, as they have at times in winters past.
About 20 handsome Canada geese floated and rested in the middle of the impoundment. A ten-foot wall of beige and seed-plumed phragmites along one shoreline offered an appropriate and impressive backdrop to the lake and the geese on it.
Scanning the impoundment with binoculars, I saw up to 20 ring-necked ducks, mostly the elegant drakes, sitting on the water's surface near the geese. Those ring-necks were hard to count because of their constant diving for food and re-surfacing, but interesting to watch diving under water from the surface to get aquatic vegetation off the lake's bottom to ingest. Perhaps the suddenly colder weather pushed these bay ducks into moving farther south. Or, maybe, they were merely somewhere else in the local area.
Three pied-billed grebes floated on the water near to the ring-necks and geese. All three of them also dove occasionally under water from the surface to snare small fish in their beaks as they swam under water. They came to the surface to swallow their victims. Pied-bills have been on this lake every winter for at least the last few years. These grebes might be the same ones that have been here before.
A couple dozen pretty, over-wintering mallard ducks swam among and in front of the wall of emergent phragmites along the back shore. Many mallards tipped-up, with their tails pointing toward the sky, to use their broad bills to shovel water plants, some of their food sources, off the bottom of the shallows. A pair of striking black ducks, a pair of pretty wood ducks and a half-dozen attractive gadwall ducks swam among the mallards and fed much like them.
As I watched the ring-necks, and the mallards and their puddle duck associates, another eight gadwalls swooped in for a landing on the water near their relatives already on the impoundment. Those gadwalls in flight were striking to see. They were streamlined, dark against the gray sky and had a white square on each wing that was extended in flight. Those highly visible, white patches might hold the gadwalls together in a flock when in flight.
Seeing the mallards and their associates and the ring-necks on the lake reminded me that mallards are the most common puddle duck in southeastern Pennsylvania and ring-necks are the most common bay ducks inland. The presence of those two species on that pond was more appropriate to me than exciting.
Two majestic great blue herons slowly stalked fish in the shallows along the edges of the impoundment, one of them in and out of a stand of cattails growing out of the water. Those herons offered another element of beauty and interest to the imopoundment.
And there was a half dozen ring-billed gulls sitting on an edge of the lake. They offered a bit of the ocean and estuary shore to that inland environment. Other times in the past, a lot of gulls had rested on that impoundment between feeding forays in nearby fields and land fills.
I was happy to watch that human-made impoundment for an hour. Though I didn't see any outstanding birds or other creatures, I had a joyful, inspiring time along its shores. We all can have peace and joy just by being immersed in nature, most anywhere, most anytime.
About 20 handsome Canada geese floated and rested in the middle of the impoundment. A ten-foot wall of beige and seed-plumed phragmites along one shoreline offered an appropriate and impressive backdrop to the lake and the geese on it.
Scanning the impoundment with binoculars, I saw up to 20 ring-necked ducks, mostly the elegant drakes, sitting on the water's surface near the geese. Those ring-necks were hard to count because of their constant diving for food and re-surfacing, but interesting to watch diving under water from the surface to get aquatic vegetation off the lake's bottom to ingest. Perhaps the suddenly colder weather pushed these bay ducks into moving farther south. Or, maybe, they were merely somewhere else in the local area.
Three pied-billed grebes floated on the water near to the ring-necks and geese. All three of them also dove occasionally under water from the surface to snare small fish in their beaks as they swam under water. They came to the surface to swallow their victims. Pied-bills have been on this lake every winter for at least the last few years. These grebes might be the same ones that have been here before.
A couple dozen pretty, over-wintering mallard ducks swam among and in front of the wall of emergent phragmites along the back shore. Many mallards tipped-up, with their tails pointing toward the sky, to use their broad bills to shovel water plants, some of their food sources, off the bottom of the shallows. A pair of striking black ducks, a pair of pretty wood ducks and a half-dozen attractive gadwall ducks swam among the mallards and fed much like them.
As I watched the ring-necks, and the mallards and their puddle duck associates, another eight gadwalls swooped in for a landing on the water near their relatives already on the impoundment. Those gadwalls in flight were striking to see. They were streamlined, dark against the gray sky and had a white square on each wing that was extended in flight. Those highly visible, white patches might hold the gadwalls together in a flock when in flight.
Seeing the mallards and their associates and the ring-necks on the lake reminded me that mallards are the most common puddle duck in southeastern Pennsylvania and ring-necks are the most common bay ducks inland. The presence of those two species on that pond was more appropriate to me than exciting.
Two majestic great blue herons slowly stalked fish in the shallows along the edges of the impoundment, one of them in and out of a stand of cattails growing out of the water. Those herons offered another element of beauty and interest to the imopoundment.
And there was a half dozen ring-billed gulls sitting on an edge of the lake. They offered a bit of the ocean and estuary shore to that inland environment. Other times in the past, a lot of gulls had rested on that impoundment between feeding forays in nearby fields and land fills.
I was happy to watch that human-made impoundment for an hour. Though I didn't see any outstanding birds or other creatures, I had a joyful, inspiring time along its shores. We all can have peace and joy just by being immersed in nature, most anywhere, most anytime.
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Feathered Crossroads
I went to a pond in Morgantown, Pennsylvania on December 5, 2017 to see flocks of wintering ring-billed gulls, Canada geese and a small variety of duck species, as I have in the last few years. The weather was overcast, cool and damp, with a threat of rain.
I arrived at that pond about 3:00 PM, but saw no gulls, geese or any other kinds of birds on it. I thought that the gulls and geese were feeding away from that pond and would return to it at any time. But as I waited for them to come back to rest on the pond, I saw flocks of gulls and geese passing each other over a woodland a few hundred yards away from the pond, but not landing on that impoundment as they had in the past.
At 3:15 PM, I drove to a gravel pull-off near the woods the ring-billed gulls and Canada geese were passing over and waited for both species to come by my waiting spot. And they soon did, flock after flock! Long, scattered streams of ring-bills flowed silently by in such numbers that I can only say they went by my ground-level lookout by the thousands. They all came from a nearby landfill where they consumed edible garbage all day and were now flying steadily southeast, flock after straggly flock to a lake, possibly Struble Lake, where they have rested each winter night for several years.
Meanwhile, smaller lines and V's of boisterously honking Canada geese, one group after another every few minutes and totaling about 380 geese, powered northwest, crossing over, under and through the rivers of gulls as the geese flew, making exciting, inspiring spectacles of both airborne species for several minutes in the darkening sky. Those geese probably had just left a harvested corn field where they filled up on waste corn kernels and probably were heading to a lake northwest of Morgantown where they would rest and digest until hungry again.
Geese run into the wind, over water and soil, while flapping their powerful wings, to get lift to take off in flight, amid much loud, exciting honking as if to bolster the courage of each other for take off. And all birds land into the wind for better flight control.
The adaptable ring-billed gulls and Canada geese are two of many species of life that flourish in human-made habitats in the midst of human activities. The ability of gulls and geese, for example, to do that increases their numbers greatly because they are not only not pushed out by human activities, but actually take advantage of them to suit themselves. The gulls eating garbage in landfills and the geese ingesting grass from lawns and grain from fields boosts their numbers greatly because each species suffers minimal die-off during the harshness of winter. More birds of each kind survives winter. And great flocks of each kind rest on human-made impoundments between feeding forays.
The gray sky and dark woods quickly got darker the cloudy afternoon of December 5 and by 4:30 I left for home. But I wondered which impoundment those gulls and geese were coming down on to rest. I had my guesses, but I would like to know if I was right. If I was right about where the geese put down, I would not be able to get near that lake to know. But I could go to Struble Lake, which lies a few miles southeast of Morgantown.
I arrived at Struble Lake at 3:15 PM on December 7 and was immediately greeted by sprinkles of ring-billed gulls dropping to that lake. Soon an almost steady river of gulls came from the northwest, which is the direction of Morgantown. The gulls left the landfill, flew over Morgantown and a long, low, line of wooded hills, and into a broad farmland valley that cradles Struble Lake. Floods of gulls poured over the lake, and each gull of thousands floated and spiraled down, down in front of a brilliant, cloud-studded sunset to a landing on that large impoundment. A line of gulls formed on the water's surface that became about 300 yards or more long by the time the gulls pretty much stopped coming to the lake. Again, I left for home about 4:30 PM. I was right about the gulls at Morgantown's landfill spending each winter night on Struble Lake.
This is just one of innumerable adventures anyone can have in nature anywhere the year around. One has only to get out and look for those wonderful, inspiring adventures.
I arrived at that pond about 3:00 PM, but saw no gulls, geese or any other kinds of birds on it. I thought that the gulls and geese were feeding away from that pond and would return to it at any time. But as I waited for them to come back to rest on the pond, I saw flocks of gulls and geese passing each other over a woodland a few hundred yards away from the pond, but not landing on that impoundment as they had in the past.
At 3:15 PM, I drove to a gravel pull-off near the woods the ring-billed gulls and Canada geese were passing over and waited for both species to come by my waiting spot. And they soon did, flock after flock! Long, scattered streams of ring-bills flowed silently by in such numbers that I can only say they went by my ground-level lookout by the thousands. They all came from a nearby landfill where they consumed edible garbage all day and were now flying steadily southeast, flock after straggly flock to a lake, possibly Struble Lake, where they have rested each winter night for several years.
Meanwhile, smaller lines and V's of boisterously honking Canada geese, one group after another every few minutes and totaling about 380 geese, powered northwest, crossing over, under and through the rivers of gulls as the geese flew, making exciting, inspiring spectacles of both airborne species for several minutes in the darkening sky. Those geese probably had just left a harvested corn field where they filled up on waste corn kernels and probably were heading to a lake northwest of Morgantown where they would rest and digest until hungry again.
Geese run into the wind, over water and soil, while flapping their powerful wings, to get lift to take off in flight, amid much loud, exciting honking as if to bolster the courage of each other for take off. And all birds land into the wind for better flight control.
The adaptable ring-billed gulls and Canada geese are two of many species of life that flourish in human-made habitats in the midst of human activities. The ability of gulls and geese, for example, to do that increases their numbers greatly because they are not only not pushed out by human activities, but actually take advantage of them to suit themselves. The gulls eating garbage in landfills and the geese ingesting grass from lawns and grain from fields boosts their numbers greatly because each species suffers minimal die-off during the harshness of winter. More birds of each kind survives winter. And great flocks of each kind rest on human-made impoundments between feeding forays.
The gray sky and dark woods quickly got darker the cloudy afternoon of December 5 and by 4:30 I left for home. But I wondered which impoundment those gulls and geese were coming down on to rest. I had my guesses, but I would like to know if I was right. If I was right about where the geese put down, I would not be able to get near that lake to know. But I could go to Struble Lake, which lies a few miles southeast of Morgantown.
I arrived at Struble Lake at 3:15 PM on December 7 and was immediately greeted by sprinkles of ring-billed gulls dropping to that lake. Soon an almost steady river of gulls came from the northwest, which is the direction of Morgantown. The gulls left the landfill, flew over Morgantown and a long, low, line of wooded hills, and into a broad farmland valley that cradles Struble Lake. Floods of gulls poured over the lake, and each gull of thousands floated and spiraled down, down in front of a brilliant, cloud-studded sunset to a landing on that large impoundment. A line of gulls formed on the water's surface that became about 300 yards or more long by the time the gulls pretty much stopped coming to the lake. Again, I left for home about 4:30 PM. I was right about the gulls at Morgantown's landfill spending each winter night on Struble Lake.
This is just one of innumerable adventures anyone can have in nature anywhere the year around. One has only to get out and look for those wonderful, inspiring adventures.
Monday, December 4, 2017
Little Birds on Small Shorelines
For about 45 minutes one sunny afternoon early in December of this year, I drove slowly along a rural road by a small creek about a mile from my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania. I was out to see what wildlife was active in the short amount of time I had for that venture. I soon saw a small bird fluttering in a thin thicket of red-twigged dogwood bushes, young ash-leafed maple trees loaded with winged seeds, and tall grass along that waterway. I stopped and waited for the bird to emerge from the shrubbery so I could identify it with 16 power binoculars.
The bird was a lovely male house finch, along with a few others of its kind in that thicket. And as I briefly watched the finches, a male cardinal and a song sparrow flashed into view among the dogwoods. All those small birds, and other attractive species, had shelter from cold wind and predators among the bushes, saplings and tall grass, and found seeds to eat among the grasses and weeds in that streamside thicket.
Driving on at a crawl, I stopped at another patch of tall grass and weeds standing right down to the slow-running water, and under a few each of medium-sized ash-leafed maple, silver maple and black walnut trees on those same banks. A dozen handsome mallard ducks of both genders loafed on the sluggish water while a beautifully camouflaged Wilson's snipe rapidly probed its long bill up and down into the mud of inch-deep water along the shore to snare aquatic invertebrates to ingest. Snipe are sandpipers that breed and winter inland, mostly along flowing streams and in grassy bogs.
While watching the mallards and snipe, I saw a male downy woodpecker hitch itself up the trunk of an ash-leafed maple tree and chip audibly at patches of dead, loose bark to find invertebrates, or their eggs, under that protective bark. And I noted a lone Carolina chickadee among the twigs and buds of that same tree, where it looked for insect eggs to consume. Because these woodland birds search for food on different parts of each tree, they reduce competition for food between them and both species can live in the same wooded environments.
While watching the charming woodpecker and chickadee working for a meal in the tree, I saw another flash of movement among the grasses along the water line of the opposite shore. Looking with my field glasses, I saw the small bird was a winter wren along the little creek for the winter. Its kind is more likely to winter along small waterways in woodlands, rather than along a tree-lined stream in farmland.
The wren crept down to the waterline and onto a tiny mudflat where it poked around for small invertebrates to eat. Suddenly, a song sparrow came into my view on that same flat. It, too, was searching for invertebrates to ingest. Both the wren and sparrow actively moved about from narrow flat to small gravel bar at the water's edge in their quest for food. Song sparrows are more likely to live in wider patches of tall grasses and shrubbery in cropland and suburban areas. But, being adaptable, this one lives in a narrow strip of tall grasses, weeds and middle-aged trees. And because both the wren and sparrow are adaptable, they are wintering side by side in a habitat that meets the needs of both birds. Therefore, interestingly, the winter wren and song sparrow hunted for invertebrates on the same flats and bars along the lapping waters of the little creek.
Winter wrens and song sparrows have a few characteristics in common. They are basically brown, which camouflages them well among dead, fallen leaves on forest floors in the case of the wrens, and dead, beige grasses in overgrown fields in the case of the sparrows. And both these little birds like small waterways where they find much invertebrate food. They creep around on the ground like feathered mice when searching for food.
But, while song sparrows are permanent residents here, winter wrens are here only in winter and nest farther north and in the mountains of the United States. And the sparrows also ingest seeds, something the wrens do not do.
The creek made all this beauty possible. Farmers can't plow right up to the waterways' shores, so many of those shorelines become overgrown with a variety of tall vegetation which shelters wildlife. Shrubby thickets harbor cardinals, finches and other wildlife species, woodpeckers, chickadees and other creatures get food and shelter from trees along the waterways' edges and winter wrens and song sparrows winter along stream banks where they find food on mud flats and gravel bars and shelter among tree roots and tall grasses. Waterways provide oases of shelter for wildlife in cropland.
It was thrilling to see the winter wren because they are small, camouflaged, secretive and, therefore, seldom seen, even by birders. And it was interesting to see two unrelated kinds of small birds sharing a common narrow habitat because they are both adaptable. Nature is always full of beauties and surprises throughout the world. Nothing is as enjoyable and inspiring to me and many other people as nature.
The bird was a lovely male house finch, along with a few others of its kind in that thicket. And as I briefly watched the finches, a male cardinal and a song sparrow flashed into view among the dogwoods. All those small birds, and other attractive species, had shelter from cold wind and predators among the bushes, saplings and tall grass, and found seeds to eat among the grasses and weeds in that streamside thicket.
Driving on at a crawl, I stopped at another patch of tall grass and weeds standing right down to the slow-running water, and under a few each of medium-sized ash-leafed maple, silver maple and black walnut trees on those same banks. A dozen handsome mallard ducks of both genders loafed on the sluggish water while a beautifully camouflaged Wilson's snipe rapidly probed its long bill up and down into the mud of inch-deep water along the shore to snare aquatic invertebrates to ingest. Snipe are sandpipers that breed and winter inland, mostly along flowing streams and in grassy bogs.
While watching the mallards and snipe, I saw a male downy woodpecker hitch itself up the trunk of an ash-leafed maple tree and chip audibly at patches of dead, loose bark to find invertebrates, or their eggs, under that protective bark. And I noted a lone Carolina chickadee among the twigs and buds of that same tree, where it looked for insect eggs to consume. Because these woodland birds search for food on different parts of each tree, they reduce competition for food between them and both species can live in the same wooded environments.
While watching the charming woodpecker and chickadee working for a meal in the tree, I saw another flash of movement among the grasses along the water line of the opposite shore. Looking with my field glasses, I saw the small bird was a winter wren along the little creek for the winter. Its kind is more likely to winter along small waterways in woodlands, rather than along a tree-lined stream in farmland.
The wren crept down to the waterline and onto a tiny mudflat where it poked around for small invertebrates to eat. Suddenly, a song sparrow came into my view on that same flat. It, too, was searching for invertebrates to ingest. Both the wren and sparrow actively moved about from narrow flat to small gravel bar at the water's edge in their quest for food. Song sparrows are more likely to live in wider patches of tall grasses and shrubbery in cropland and suburban areas. But, being adaptable, this one lives in a narrow strip of tall grasses, weeds and middle-aged trees. And because both the wren and sparrow are adaptable, they are wintering side by side in a habitat that meets the needs of both birds. Therefore, interestingly, the winter wren and song sparrow hunted for invertebrates on the same flats and bars along the lapping waters of the little creek.
Winter wrens and song sparrows have a few characteristics in common. They are basically brown, which camouflages them well among dead, fallen leaves on forest floors in the case of the wrens, and dead, beige grasses in overgrown fields in the case of the sparrows. And both these little birds like small waterways where they find much invertebrate food. They creep around on the ground like feathered mice when searching for food.
But, while song sparrows are permanent residents here, winter wrens are here only in winter and nest farther north and in the mountains of the United States. And the sparrows also ingest seeds, something the wrens do not do.
The creek made all this beauty possible. Farmers can't plow right up to the waterways' shores, so many of those shorelines become overgrown with a variety of tall vegetation which shelters wildlife. Shrubby thickets harbor cardinals, finches and other wildlife species, woodpeckers, chickadees and other creatures get food and shelter from trees along the waterways' edges and winter wrens and song sparrows winter along stream banks where they find food on mud flats and gravel bars and shelter among tree roots and tall grasses. Waterways provide oases of shelter for wildlife in cropland.
It was thrilling to see the winter wren because they are small, camouflaged, secretive and, therefore, seldom seen, even by birders. And it was interesting to see two unrelated kinds of small birds sharing a common narrow habitat because they are both adaptable. Nature is always full of beauties and surprises throughout the world. Nothing is as enjoyable and inspiring to me and many other people as nature.
Friday, December 1, 2017
Decorative Winter Plants
Tall weeds and grasses are pretty in summer, with lovely flowers on the weeds. But the seed heads of some of those same, still-standing plants are just as attractive in some fields and along certain streams, ponds, railroad tracks and rural roadsides in southeastern Pennsylvania in winter. And they are, or had been, loaded with small seeds that provide food for mice and seed-eating birds through winter. Hawks, owls, foxes, weasels and other predators prey on some of those small rodents and birds through that harshest of seasons.
Some of these plants are native to North America, while others are aliens from Eurasia. But most of them flourish on the disturbed soil of human-made habitats in farmland, making those habitats more interesting in winter. Some of them can be spotted when on a walk or ride in the countryside in winter when flowers' beauties are not available.
Although the stems and flower heads of these still-standing plants are dead and dry in winter, the roots of many of them are still alive and will sprout during the next spring. And clumps of these plants block winter wind and provide small critters shelter against predators.
Patches of the native, abundant and widely scattered goldenrod and aster plants have fluffy seed heads that are attractive when seen with sunlight glowing through them. Each bit of fluff carries a tiny seed on the wind and away from the parent plant, thus spreading its common species across the landscape.
The abundant and alien foxtail grass and common purple top and broom grass are attractive in built habitats. These grasses are most lovely when seen with low-slanting sunlight behind them. The purple tops have a reddish or purple glow in the sunshine while broom grass is a rich orange-beige in winter. The foxtails are most loaded with seeds which feed a lot of small birds in winter. Sometimes one will spot a small flock of birds feeding on foxtail seeds.
Several kinds of flowering plants have attractively solid-looking and sculptured-looking seed heads in winter. All of them are aliens from Europe, except common milkweeds. Winter milkweeds have gray, open seed pods that are empty in winter, having released their seeds into the wind. Some of those pods resemble small birds perched on stems.
Burdock, teasel and nodding thistle plants have bristly seed heads. Burdocks have spiny, half-inch seed pods that are oval in shape. Teasel seed heads are about an inch and a half tall, grayish and loaded with empty holes where the seeds developed and fell out. Europeans in medieval times used the protective bristles on teasel flower heads to tease out wool.
Common mullien plants grow up to six feet tall, are branched once or twice and look a bit like certain cacti along our roadsides. The upward-pointing arms of mulliens are riddled with empty holes where seeds developed. Medieval Europeans dipped those dead, dried stalks into liquid animal fat to allow the fat to soak into the numerous cavities. They lighted the cold, solid fat on the stalks to be torches at night.
Dead, still-standing evening primrose and Queen-Anne's-lace stalks are attractive in winter. Seed pods of primroses are upright, a half-inch tall and beige, perhaps looking like tiny candle holders. The gray-brown seed heads of Queen-Anne's-lace curl upward at their edges, making them resemble small birds' nests. When covered with snow, those same seed heads look like snow cones. `
Three kinds of wetland plants, cattails, phragmites and bulrushes, are striking in winter. All of them spread by roots pushing through the soil, and seeds. The familiar cattails look like fat hot dogs stuck on top of sticks. Deer mice and certain kinds of small birds use the fluff of cattails to line their nests. Muskrats consume cattail roots and use their leaves and stems to make their homes in shallow ponds.
Phragmites grow up to ten feet tall and have large, attractive, feathery-looking plumes on top that glow in low-slanting, winter sunlight. Stands of these tall plants block winter wind and provide cover for a variety of wildlife.
Bulrushes are wetland grasses that grow to be more than three feet high. Their decorative seed heads droop from their stems, making these plants picturesque. Mallards and other kinds of puddle ducks eat their seeds while muskrats ingest their stalks.
These are some of the attractive dead plants that can be spotted in farmland in winter. When out for a walk or ride in the countryside, look for some of these inspiring beauties.
Some of these plants are native to North America, while others are aliens from Eurasia. But most of them flourish on the disturbed soil of human-made habitats in farmland, making those habitats more interesting in winter. Some of them can be spotted when on a walk or ride in the countryside in winter when flowers' beauties are not available.
Although the stems and flower heads of these still-standing plants are dead and dry in winter, the roots of many of them are still alive and will sprout during the next spring. And clumps of these plants block winter wind and provide small critters shelter against predators.
Patches of the native, abundant and widely scattered goldenrod and aster plants have fluffy seed heads that are attractive when seen with sunlight glowing through them. Each bit of fluff carries a tiny seed on the wind and away from the parent plant, thus spreading its common species across the landscape.
The abundant and alien foxtail grass and common purple top and broom grass are attractive in built habitats. These grasses are most lovely when seen with low-slanting sunlight behind them. The purple tops have a reddish or purple glow in the sunshine while broom grass is a rich orange-beige in winter. The foxtails are most loaded with seeds which feed a lot of small birds in winter. Sometimes one will spot a small flock of birds feeding on foxtail seeds.
Several kinds of flowering plants have attractively solid-looking and sculptured-looking seed heads in winter. All of them are aliens from Europe, except common milkweeds. Winter milkweeds have gray, open seed pods that are empty in winter, having released their seeds into the wind. Some of those pods resemble small birds perched on stems.
Burdock, teasel and nodding thistle plants have bristly seed heads. Burdocks have spiny, half-inch seed pods that are oval in shape. Teasel seed heads are about an inch and a half tall, grayish and loaded with empty holes where the seeds developed and fell out. Europeans in medieval times used the protective bristles on teasel flower heads to tease out wool.
Common mullien plants grow up to six feet tall, are branched once or twice and look a bit like certain cacti along our roadsides. The upward-pointing arms of mulliens are riddled with empty holes where seeds developed. Medieval Europeans dipped those dead, dried stalks into liquid animal fat to allow the fat to soak into the numerous cavities. They lighted the cold, solid fat on the stalks to be torches at night.
Dead, still-standing evening primrose and Queen-Anne's-lace stalks are attractive in winter. Seed pods of primroses are upright, a half-inch tall and beige, perhaps looking like tiny candle holders. The gray-brown seed heads of Queen-Anne's-lace curl upward at their edges, making them resemble small birds' nests. When covered with snow, those same seed heads look like snow cones. `
Three kinds of wetland plants, cattails, phragmites and bulrushes, are striking in winter. All of them spread by roots pushing through the soil, and seeds. The familiar cattails look like fat hot dogs stuck on top of sticks. Deer mice and certain kinds of small birds use the fluff of cattails to line their nests. Muskrats consume cattail roots and use their leaves and stems to make their homes in shallow ponds.
Phragmites grow up to ten feet tall and have large, attractive, feathery-looking plumes on top that glow in low-slanting, winter sunlight. Stands of these tall plants block winter wind and provide cover for a variety of wildlife.
Bulrushes are wetland grasses that grow to be more than three feet high. Their decorative seed heads droop from their stems, making these plants picturesque. Mallards and other kinds of puddle ducks eat their seeds while muskrats ingest their stalks.
These are some of the attractive dead plants that can be spotted in farmland in winter. When out for a walk or ride in the countryside, look for some of these inspiring beauties.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)