Nature Heals Itself

     Nature heals itself with plant succession.  After fires, cultivation or grazing finishes their destruction of natural environments, and the land is let go, a succession of plants heals the wounds.  Those plants' roots hold down soil against erosion, and the plants' various parts feed and shelter a variety of wildlife adaptable enough to take advantage of them.
     I occasionally visit a recently abandoned, two-acre meadow in farmland just outside New Holland, Pennsylvania to see what is happening in nature there.  Many habitats close to home are just as good in their own ways as those environments some distance from home.  This human-made pasture already has lots of seed-bearing weeds and grasses, including Queen-Anne's-lace, chicory, ragweeds and foxtail grass.  Plus, there is a line of young, volunteer ash-leafed maple, sycamore, mulberry and crab apple trees along a fence in the rear of the meadow.  The maples and sycamore sprang up from seeds blown there by wind.  The mulberry and crab apple seeds were brought there in the digestive tracts of birds who digested the pulp of those trees' fruits, but deposited the seeds in their droppings when they perched on the fence.     
     In summer, I regularly saw an attractive pair each of eastern bluebirds and eastern kingbirds catching invertebrates in that pasture.  The bluebirds snared them in the weeds and grasses, and among foliage in the trees.  The kingbirds, on the other hand, caught flying insects in mid-air.  Their getting food in different niches of the same habitat lessens competition for food between these species, allowing both of them to live in the same habitat.
     The bluebirds must have nested in a bluebird box erected for them in that pasture because I eventually saw young bluebirds being fed by their striking parents in that habitat.  And, apparently, the kingbird pair raised offspring in a twig and grass nursery on twigs of one of the young trees along the fence in the back of the meadow.  Late in summer, it was intriguing to see the whole kingbird family perched on tall weeds and grasses as they watched for flying insects passing by them.  They snared their prey, one at a time, all day, every day, before departing to Central America to escape the northern winter.   
     By mid-summer and later in that season, I saw several handsome, highly maneuverable barn swallows, both young and older, from nearby barns where they hatched in mud pellet cradles on support beams, cruising low to the weeds and grass, and at top speed, over the pasture after flying insects.  They skimmed and swooped swiftly among each other without collision, being entertaining to watch before, they too, drifted south before the coming winter. 
     In winter, I saw a couple of kinds of permanent resident birds feed in this meadow's line of trees.   Once I saw a northern mockingbird and up to a dozen lovely bluebirds consuming crab apple fruits.  Those two species of birds were in direct competition for food, a reason the mocker was trying to drive away the bluebirds, but to no avail while I was there.  The mocker might later try to nest in the shrubbery under that line of trees. 
     Other kinds of permanent resident birds were in that pasture to ingest seeds from the weeds and grasses.  I saw a handsome song sparrow and an attractive pair of cardinals among the bushes under the trees.  Those birds zip out into the pasture to eat seeds off the weeds and grasses.
     And little gangs of a few species of wintering birds, including resident house finches from nearby farm buildings and hedgerows, gypsy American goldfinches and wintering dark-eyed juncos occasionally sweep into the meadow to consume weed and grass seeds.  Juncos nest farther north and west, but regularly winter in Pennsylvania. 
     Juncos regularly shelter in stands and patches of coniferous trees during winter, and this bunch was no exception.  Several times a day they flitted out of a half-grown stand of white pine and Norway spruce trees, across 150 yards of a harvested hay field and onto the weeds and grasses in the pasture to dine on their many tiny seeds.  When full of seeds, the juncos flutter back to the sheltering conifers to rest and digest in comparative safety.                  
     A few times I saw a wintering female American kestrel, a small type of hawk closely related to peregrine falcons.  Once, the kestrel was perched on the tip-top of one of the young trees as she watched for field mice in the meadow to catch and ingest.  Another time, I saw her hovering on rapidly beating wings into a strong wind as she looked for mice.  But she might also catch some of the small birds in that pasture. 
     Deserted human-made habitats that succeed back to more natural, overgrown ones are valuable to adaptable kinds of wildlife.  Nature heals itself!  And I always enjoy experiencing the beauties and intrigues of nature in those successional habitats.    

Wintering Birds at Blackwater

     Two impoundments of inches-deep, fresh water near the visitors' center of Blackwater Wildlife Refuge, just south of Cambridge, Maryland, is alive with a variety of water birds in winter.  This refuge of 28, 894 acres is based on the broad Blackwater River in the flat, marshy Chesapeake Bay Country on Maryland's eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay.  This refuge is also located in southwestern Delmarva Peninsula, which includes Delaware, Maryland and Virginia east of the Chesapeake.  It is a natural, traditional place for thousands of geese, swans, and ducks of several kinds to spend winter.  Here they find ample food from mid-October to the middle of February or early March when they start their trips north or west to their breeding territories.  And here we find another habitat of peace and beauty: An intriguing place of rivers, shallow, freshwater ponds, marshes, fields and woods, including many stands of evergreen loblolly pines.  Emergent vegetation grows in the impoundments and several patches of tall, attractive phragmites with feathery, beige plumes stand here and there around the pools.   
     I visited Blackwater Refuge a few times several years ago, but for an hour or two a day, the last two weeks, I have been viewing a few inches-deep, freshwater ponds by camera mounted on a long, lean dike between those shallow pools.  I see what the camera "sees" as it turns and stops, turn and stops, 360 degrees, day and night.  I pick up the live images and sounds of the birds on a computer screen at home.  But those ponds are only part of Blackwater Refuge.  I know I am seeing only part of the wildlife that winters at Blackwater.
     The wintering birds I see and hear in greatest abundance live on my computer screen are majestic Canada geese, elegant tundra swans, attractive pintail ducks and mallard ducks, and handsome ring-billed gulls.  Many geese, swans and ducks shovel up and feed on emergent vegetation and their roots in those shallow pools.  But these waterfowl species also fly out in flocks to nearby grass fields and harvested corn fields to feed on grass they pluck and kernels of corn they pick or scoop up with their beaks and ingest. 
     Low-slanting, winter sunlight at dawn and dusk adds another dimension of beauty to this watery, grassy environment.  Still water of the impoundments reflects the winter sky, including brilliantly colored sunsets and sunrises, trees, and loudly calling waterfowl, as those birds pass over the ponds to feeding fields, or, when full of vegetation, back to the water's safety. 
     Deciduous and coniferous trees and flocks of flying waterfowl are silhouetted handsomely before sunrises and sunsets. Seeing those flocks of noisy geese, swans and ducks before a striking sunset or sunrise is truly inspiring, lifting human spirits.                             
     Sometimes I see a little group of drake pintail ducks taking off from one of the shallow ponds in hot pursuit of a female pintail.  The male pintail that keeps up with her is accepted as her mate.
     Canada geese and tundra swans are never quiet as groups.  Gangs of these species, plus ducks and ring-billed gulls, are often shifting from place to place, to feed or for another resting spot on the water, or on the dike between the ponds.  I often see flocks of Canadas, swans, ducks and ring-billed gulls, sometimes all those species at once, on that strip of soil.
     Loose gatherings of gracefully-flying ring-billed gulls come off the Blackwater River and the Chesapeake Bay beyond that river to feed and rest at this refuge.  They consume anything that is edible, including dead fish.  And they rest on the fresh-water pools and the dike between them.    
     There are other, less common, species of birds wintering around those two impoundments at Blackwater Refuge, including shoveler ducks, green-winged teal, great blue herons, bald eagles and northern harriers.  The shovelers and teal are puddle ducks, so-named because of their tendency to feed on aquatic plants in shallow water.  Groups of shovelers swim in circles and stir the mud on the bottom with their webbed feet.  Then they take in beaksful of mud and strain out edibles, and discarding the mud.  
     Several great blue herons winter at Blackwater where they stalk fish in open water.  These herons fish as individuals and chase other great blues away from their fishing spots.
     Several bald eagles winter at Blackwater, and some of them nest there as well.  These big raptors catch larger fish and other creatures around the refuge, but also scavenge dead fish and animals wherever they can.  These eagles even fight each other for food.
     Northern harriers are open country hawks that fly and soar slowly into the wind and low to the ground as they watch for mice and small birds in fields around marshes and ponds.  Harriers have long wings that tilt slightly from side to side to help give them control of flight in the wind.  
     Blackwater Refuge is another peaceful, pretty place where wildlife can find food and shelter throughout the year.  And this refuge preserves some of the wetlands that are beneficial to many kinds of wildlife and offer us inspiring, soul-lifting beauty and intrigue the year around.        

Winter Thickets

     One morning in mid-December, I stopped along a rural road in southern Berks County, Pennsylvania because of an interesting mix of human-made habitats along that road.  An overgrown field hosted tall, lovely and dead foxtail grass, goldenrod and asters, all loaded with tiny seeds.  At one end of that field was a row of Tartarian honeysuckle bushes full of red berries.  Bittersweet and poison ivy vines climbed young trees on another edge of the field.  Those vines were full of berries, too.  Behind the field, there was a planted row of tall Norway spruce trees, most of which had large, beige cones hanging from their branch tips.  And a few pin oak trees, loaded with acorns, dotted a bottomland pasture.  All these attractive plants had foods that a variety of birds and mammals will eat through winter.  And I saw a few kinds of birds among those thickets of food sources and shelter while I was viewing those pretty human-made habitats beneficial to wildlife.  Little gatherings of American robins and eastern bluebirds were busily consuming strikingly-orange bittersweet berries, as they will all winter.  Blue jays were picking acorns from the pin oaks and flying away with those nuts in their beaks, one at a time, to poke them into tree crevices or push them into loose soil for safe keeping for winter food, as, no doubt, that had been doing since late October.  And a few each of house finches and northern cardinals were ingesting seeds from grasses, goldenrod and asters, as they will all winter.       
     I like overgrown, tangled thickets of young trees, bushes, vines, and tall weeds and grasses in hedgerows between fields, along the edges of woods, streams and rural roads, and in abandoned fields and meadows through the year, including in winter.  Each thicket has a variety of beautiful and intriguing plants and animals at all times.  Thickets, and marshes, are my favorite local habitats.
     I know there has to be many more kinds of vegetation and wildlife in that collection of neighboring human-made thickets I experienced that December morning in Berks County.  Cottontail rabbits and white-tailed deer will nibble grass, twigs and other vegetation.  Acorns from the pin oaks will feed gray squirrels, deer mice and wintering American crows.  Berries, including those on thorny-stemmed multiflora rose and barberry bushes, will feed yellow-rumped warblers, cedar waxwings and starlings through winter.  Red junipers have tiny, pale-blue cones that resemble berries and are eaten as such by the types of birds mentioned here.  The weed and grass seeds will nourish permanent resident song sparrows and American goldfinches and wintering white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos all winter.
     Red foxes, opossums, striped skunks, raccoons and other kinds of mammals consume lots of crab apples from crab apple trees.  And a variety of birds ingest crab apples as well.  As with berries and red juniper cones, mammals and birds digest the pulp of crab apples, but pass the seeds in their droppings as they travel, thus spreading crab apple trees far and wide.   
     Small, winged seeds in Norway spruce cones are food to permanent resident American goldfinches and Carolina chickadees, and wintering pine siskins and two species of crossbills.  These birds climb about on the cones and pull the seeds out with their beaks, and eat seeds that fluttered to the ground.  Crossbills have crossed mandibles that aid in extracting seeds from coniferous tree cones.     
     Interesting, overgrown thickets like this one are all over southeastern Pennsylvania, and through much of the United States.  They all offer year around food and shelter to a large variety of wildlife.
And they have much beauty and intrigue for us to experience.  Thickets are well worth visiting, but without invading them.  Leave them alone for the benefit of wildlife.     

Cropland Hawks and Eagles

     Lancaster County, Pennsylvania's human-made croplands, that are plowed and harvested to the ground, hardly seem a place where hawks and eagles would live or hunt in, but at least eight species annually do, at least part of each year.  Not all those raptors are in that farmland at once, but each kind is there in its own time.  All of them are predators and all make farmland more interesting to experience.  Some only pass through here in migration, others are permanent residents, and still others are here in winter. 
     Red-tailed hawks, American kestrels and bald eagles, as species, are permanent residents in Lancaster County cropland, including nesting here.  The majestic red-tails and eagles can be spotted soaring gracefully high in the sky, anytime of year. 
     Red-tails and eagles start their breeding cycles by late December.  Females of both these stately species lay two or three eggs on large, stick platforms high in tall, lone cropland trees or big trees in woodlots and hedgerows.  By courting early, their young will be fledged and independent of parental care by June when prey animals are most abundant.
     Red-tails and bald eagles are scavengers of dead animals, as well as hunters of live creatures.  They consume animals killed on country roads that have minimal traffic, and they have the sense to rise from those roads when vehicles approach.  These large raptors also ingest deceased farm animals, particularly chickens, that were discarded onto the fields.       
     The much smaller, colorful kestrels court in March and raise young in tree cavities, barns and boxes erected for them and screech owls.  This little relative of peregrine falcons commonly perches on roadside wires and hovers lightly into the wind on rapidly beating wings to watch for mice, small birds and larger insects to eat.
     Peregrines, and their smaller relatives, merlins, migrate through this area in September and October.  They are adapted to wide open spaces, including beaches, salt marshes and croplands to hunt a variety of birds.  Peregrines go after mourning doves, rock pigeons, starlings and similarly-sized birds, while the pigeon-sized merlins hunt sparrow-sized birds.  In Lancaster County, I sometimes see peregrines and merlins perched erect and stately on top of roadside poles in farmland as they watch for prey.  Or I see them speeding low over fields on long, swept-back wings after zig-zagging birds desperately trying to elude them.        
     Crow-sized Cooper's hawks are traditionally woodland raptors that have learned to hunt birds in farmland.  They are swift on the wing, fast enough to catch many kinds of birds in woods, suburbs and fields.
     Today, many pairs of Cooper's raise young on stick platforms in tall trees in older suburban areas and hunt birds in that human-made habitat and croplands.  A pair or two of Coop's hatch offspring here in New Holland, Pennsylvania where I am thrilled to see them.
     The handsome northern harriers are hawks that mostly just pass through Lancaster County in their north-bound and south-bound migrations.  Only a few might stay here all winter, where fields of tall grass offer them shelter at night and field mice to hunt during the day.         
     Because they adapted to open ground with few perches to watch for prey, harriers developed the habit of hunting mice and small birds by pumping slowly, and gracefully into the wind low to the ground as they watch and listen for prey.  If a potential victim is spotted, each harrier suddenly drops to the ground to snare it in its long, sharp talons.  If no prey is perceived, each harrier eventually turns and glides with the wind, then swings into the wind again for another run at catching a small critter.  Harriers' method of hunting is interesting to watch.
     A few rough-legged hawks, down from nesting territories on the high Arctic tundra, spend winter in Lancaster County farmland.  They used to winter here in greater numbers, but I think there is a limited number of field mice in fields harvested to the ground, planted to winter rye, or plowed in autumn, none of which supports mice.  And, I think, rough-legs are chased out by the stronger, permanent resident red-tailed hawks.
     Rough-legs are spotted as erect forms perched in lone trees in fields, or hovering into the wind as they watch for mice.  It's exciting to see them because of their beauty, scarcity and where they came from.
     These are raptors seen in Lancaster County cropland at least part of each year.  And they make that human-made habitat a bit more intriguing.    

Wintering Geese, Deer and Turkeys

     In winter, varying-sized groups of permanent resident Canada geese, white-tailed deer and wild turkeys feed on waste corn kernels in the beige stubble of harvested cornfields in southeastern Pennsylvania farmland.  All these wildlife species are large and easily seen in those fields of little cover.  Between feeding forays, the geese rest on human-made impoundments, while the deer and turkeys shelter in woodlots and thickets.  And these species are attractive, and adaptable enough to take advantage of foods in agricultural areas, as long as the snow cover isn't too deep for them to reach it. But these camouflaged creatures are more visible in the fields when they are highlighted by a snow cover on the ground that is shallow enough for them to find food under it.  
     Flocks of handsome Canada geese feed in cornfields twice a day, both during the day and at night, therefore, sometimes overlapping both the deer and the turkeys in local croplands.  Group after group after group of hungry geese take off into the wind for greater lift from local lakes and ponds, amid their excited honking, and follow each other to fields to shovel up waste corn and/or graze on the green shoots of winter rye.  They descend, again flock after noisy flock, onto the fields, into the wind for better flight control, and immediately begin consuming vegetation.  There they stay until full of corn, or chased off by humans, dogs or some other threatening animal such as a fox or coyote.  And when leaving the fields, they take off, group after group, and fly back to their watery roosts, swirling gracefully into the wind, to descend to their watery refuges to rest.
     Majestic wild turkeys feed during the day only.  In autumn and winter these magnificent birds ingest a lot of acorns and berries in the woods and along woodland edges.  But they also eat many corn kernels in fields bordering their woodland homes.  Turkey flocks usually spread out and advance across a field, picking up corn kernels and anything else edible to them as they walk along.  Late in winter afternoons, the turkeys make their ways back to sheltering woods where they spend each winter night in the treetops to avoid ground predators.
      The elegant deer slip gracefully out of shadowy woodlots at dusk, sometimes passing turkeys striding and/or flying back to their woodland shelters for another winter's night.  At twilight, the handsome deer are still visible, particularly with snow on the ground, especially during the time of a full moon, or nearly so.  But if there is no snow or moonlight, the deer quickly fade into the prevailing darkness of night.
     The deer consume lots of corn kernels, but also graze on alfalfa and clover in hay fields.  And when full, they ease into the sheltering, dark woods to rest, and chew their cuds, as cattle do.
     During winter, all these elegant game species of wildlife rely heavily on waste corn kernels and other vegetation in agricultural fields.  They benefit from our agriculture and we enjoy their beauties and grace.       

A Clump of Shrubs and Trees

     I visited a picturesque, little clump of several red-twigged dogwood shrubs, a young river birch tree and a few crab apple trees along a clear-running stream in a short-grass pasture in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland for half an hour one afternoon toward the end of November of this year.  I stopped at that patch of sheltering, woody plants and stayed in my car to see what wintering wildlife was taking advantage of that vegetation for food and cover.
     I didn't see wildlife right away, but I noticed a muskrat hole dug into the stream-bank, across the waterway, at the usual water line.  Muskrats dig burrows at the normal water level, then slant it up so their home won't easily flood.  Females raise young in those dens above the usual water line.  Muskrats eat cattail roots, grass, aquatic vegetation and other plants.
     As I continued to watch for wildlife at that tiny, stream-side thicket in a meadow, a flock of resident starlings swooped into a couple of the crab apple trees and immediately consumed some of their fruit.  There was plenty of action as the starlings flew from branch to branch and tree to tree in the process of dining.  A couple minutes later, a half dozen, or more, American robins flipped into the crab apples to take their share of fruit.  These kinds of birds, and others, digest the pulp of berries and fruit, but pass the seeds in their droppings all over the countryside.  That is the reason wild crab apples are so common along roadsides and streams, where the sprouting trees don't get plowed under or cut off as they would in fields and many pastures.
     As the starlings and robins fluttered vigorously among the crab apples, a pair of beautiful mallard ducks floated downstream on the waterway, and under those fruity trees.  At least a dozen mallards winter along that stretch of waterway through most of each winter.  At that time they feed on water plants in ponds and waterways, and on corn kernels in harvested cornfields during the day and night.
     Finally, I saw some motion on the ground under that pretty clump of shrubs and trees along the sparkling waterway.  Looking with a 16 power pair of binoculars, I saw a total of six sparrows, one resident song sparrow, three wintering white-throated sparrows and one each of wintering adult and immature white-crowned sparrows.  Those sparrows hopped about under the shrubbery to eat seeds from dead, beige fox-tail grasses and bits of crab apple pulp that fell from the feeding birds above. 
     All those sparrows were attractive, each in its own way.  They were all mostly brown, which blends them into their habitat of soil and dead grass, so that hawks and cats can't see them so easily.  The song sparrow had several black streaks in its feathering, making it a handsome bird.  The white-throats had dark and white-striped crowns and white throat patches, making them attractive.  But the white-crowns were the most impressive of those sparrows.  The adult's crown was a vivid, elegant black and white that really stood out!  The young white-crown had a dark-chestnut and beige-striped crown that made that bird appealing to see.
     Each bit of natural food and cover, in the midst of human activities and human-made habitats, is a help to a variety of wildlife.  Those little patches of food and shelter can be nurtured on lawns, meadows, fields, large parking lots and other human-managed habitats, large and small.  Or, even a little neglect, at least here and there, can go a long way in helping wildlife live naturally.                

Symbolic Trees

     I've noticed over the years that certain kinds of trees represent the four major habitats in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.  Those habitats are waterways, farmland, suburbs and woods.  And each habitat in this county has more than one species of attractive trees representing it.
     Sycamores are the most noticeable, beautiful and characteristic of tree species along the banks of waterways in this county.  They are the large trees that have mottled light and darker, smooth bark on their trunks and limbs, making them stand out and readily noticeable from a distance.  As the older, darker bark peels off the trees, the younger, lighter bark is apparent, creating that mottling.
     Big, shaggy-barked silver maples are also characteristic of local stream banks.  This species has dull-red flowers around the end of February and into March and winged seeds in April that are eaten by squirrels and other creatures.  Unfortunately, silver maples' branches break off easily in winds, giving those trees a battered appearance.  
     However, the wind's breaking limbs off creates many cavities in sycamores and silver maples that are used by a variety of wildlife.  Permanent resident barred owls, screech owls, raccoons and opossums live and raise young in the bigger hollows.  Sometimes one can see one of those critters sticking its head out of the cavity to look around or to soak up the sun's warm rays.
     Summering wood ducks hatch ducklings in larger holes.  When the ducklings are ready to leave their wooden nurseries, they jump out of the entrance to the ground or water below, bounce a couple of times and get up and follow their mothers to water where they consume invertebrates.
     Carolina chickadees, white-breasted nuthatches, gray squirrels, white-footed mice and other permanent, woodland dwellers, and summering prothonatory warblers and crested flycatchers, raise young in the smaller tree hollows along waterways.  The warblers are lovely, golden flashes among the green foliage.  The flycatchers have a loud "wheeeepp" call.
     Many tall trees stand scattered across farmland in Lancaster County, particularly along country roads and in hedgerows between fields.  Black locusts and choke cherries are the two most characteristic trees in cropland.  They both bear white blossoms around the middle of May, the locust flowers having a sweet scent that is carried across the fields on the wind.  Hawks perch on them to watch for prey and eastern kingbirds nest on their twigs.
     The tall, slender black locust trees have rough, gnarled bark that resembles muscles straining.  And their trunks and limbs have cavities that are used by American kestrels and screech owls to raise young.  Lovely eastern bluebirds rear chicks in their smaller hollows.  A few colonies of honey bees set up house-keeping in locust hollows at times.  Those bees gather nectar from pretty, roadside wildflowers and the attractive, sweet-smelling blooms of alfalfa and red clover in nearby fields.
     Planted conifers are thee trees of suburban areas.  A few stands of wild eastern hemlocks inhabit cool, shaded woodland ravines along the Susquehanna River.  Red junipers inhabit the shoulders of expressways, and abandoned fields.  And a few wild eastern white pines, pitch pines, Virginia pines and table mountain pines inhabit hilly or rocky spots in the county.  But most conifers in this county, and surrounding counties, are those planted in suburbs- most notably white pines, eastern hemlocks, Norway spruce and blue spruce.  However, white pines readily break off in high winds and eastern hemlocks are killed by woolly adelgids.  The most hardy conifers, then, are the two spruces noted.
     Coniferous trees are planted for their majestic shapes, evergreen needles the year around which are most attractive in winter when deciduous foliage is non-existent, and as wind breaks.  They usually are planted in attractive rows or clumps, which enhances their beauties and service as wind breaks in suburban areas.   
     Many kinds of birds seek shelter in planted conifers, wherever they may have been placed.  Great horned, long-eared and saw-whet owls have shelter among them during winter days.  One can spot the furry, bony pellets of those owls on the ground under the trees.  Red-tailed hawks, Cooper's hawks, mourning doves and dark-eyed juncos shelter in them during winter nights.  And mourning doves, Cooper's hawks, purple grackles and other kinds of birds nest in them in summer.        
     Some critters, including American goldfinches, pine siskins and two kinds of crossbills down from Canadian forests, and gray squirrels consume the winged seeds from the cones of evergreen trees in suburbs, as well as in the wild.  All these creatures that seek food and cover among the conifers make them more interesting, particularly in winter.
     American beeches, sugar maples and white oaks are symbolic of Lancaster County's remnant woodlands.  Beeches have smooth, gray bark that is unique and nuts that feed rodents, white-tailed deer and wild turkeys.  They retain many of their dead leaves through winter, making them stand out.
     Sugar maples have orange foliage in October and sap that is made into syrup and candy.  White oaks have pale-gray, slightly rough bark and acorns that feed the same animals as stated above in this paragraph.  And these big, beautiful trees have cavities where flying and gray squirrels, chickadees and other animals live the year around.
     These are trees that most represent the major habitats in Lancaster County.  They are all beneficial to people and wildlife.                    
    

Birds in Odd Places

     Within a few days of each other early in November, I visited two human-made habitats in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania to experience beauties of nature in places where most people would not look for them.  One habitat was a vegetated strip, one of several, of soil between sections of a large parking lot.  The other was a small clump of half-grown crack willow trees along a creek in a public park.
     That strip of soil and plants in the parking lot had much beauty because of blooming goldenrods, lavender asters and white asters.  Yellow leaves and curling bark on a planted river birch tree, and red foliage on a young, introduced red maple tree and a few "volunteer" stag-horn sumac trees added to that beauty.  Juicy, purple berries on a pokeweed plant that also had red stems and leaves, plus tall, pale-yellow grass, particularly foxtail grass, also added to the beauties of that strip of vegetation.
     The asters may have been planted in those strips of soil, but goldenrods and grasses probably got established there by seeds blowing in the wind and settling on the ground.  The grasses, and the asters and goldenrods from earlier blossoms, were loaded with seeds the day I was there.   
     The sumacs and pokeweed sprouted from seeds deposited by birds that ate those kinds of berries elsewhere and dropped the seeds in their droppings in that strip of soil while those birds perched on the planted trees.
     I saw a limited variety of small, handsome birds in diminutive numbers in that strip of vegetation in the parking lot.  They were there to eat seeds from the weeds, grasses and the river birch, or berries from the sumacs and pokeweed.  In less than an hour, I saw a wintering dark-eyed junco, a permanent resident song sparrow, male house finch and female northern cardinal, and a small group of roving American goldfinches eating seeds from the plants listed above.  And a handful of lovely eastern bluebirds perched on the sumacs and pokeweed to eat their berries.  None of these birds seemed afraid of cars or people in the parking lots, as they adjusted to the presence of both.  
     Birds, in their daily travels, are forever on the lookout for sources of food and shelter and go to it wherever it is.  Gangs of wintering cedar waxwings consume berries in trees and shrubbery along city streets and noisy flocks of wintering Canada geese graze on short grass along busy expressways and in the cloverleafs of those highways, for example. 
     The current-exposed roots of the few young crack willows perched upright on the bank of a creek and a tiny island in the middle of that waterway worked together to snare logs, limbs and other woods debris, forming all that into a twelve-foot-long, driftwood peninsula.  And, for a variety of reasons, a few kinds of interesting, small birds hung around those trees and that peninsula for the hour I visited that spot along the creek in the park.
     An energetic, fluttering group of entertaining yellow-rumped warblers constantly flitted after tiny, flying insects among the small trees and from the floating bridge beneath them.  Yellow-rumps resemble sparrows in winter, but have thinner beaks than sparrows do.  Warbler bills are designed to pick up insects and their eggs.  And yellow-rumps do have bright-yellow rumps that are quite noticeable.  This species nests in Canada's mixed forests and spends winters in the Lower 48.
     A song sparrow and a small gang of American goldfinches fluttered about on the drift-wood bridge in their search for seeds, invertebrates and other edibles among the fallen limbs and logs.  There is always an abundance of song sparrows in thickets along waterways and ponds where they find ample food and cover.  Goldfinches can be found most anywhere in winter as they travel about in search of food.
     Interestingly, I saw a white-breasted nuthatch and a brown creeper on one of the willows.  Both these woodland species were searching for insects and their eggs hidden away in crevices in the bark.  Nuthatches can cling to tree bark in any position, including being up-side-down as they look for food.  The creepers, however, flutter down to the base of trees and spiral their way up trunks as they search for sustenance.
     Birds, and other wildlife, can be found in the oddest of places at times.  We just need to look for them and be prepared for almost anything!          

     

Creek Wildlife in November

     One afternoon early in November of this year, I visited a couple of my favorite spots along the shores of Mill Creek, where it flows slowly, in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland.  Each of those creekside locations have different habitats, causing them to also have different communities of wild plants and animals.
     At my first stop along Mill Creek, in an extensive short-grass meadow that afternoon in November, I saw about 3,000 stately Canada geese, a half dozen mallard ducks, at least 12 killdeer plovers, a pectoral sandpiper, an elegant great blue heron, a male belted kingfisher and a magnificent adult bald eagle. 
     The geese have wintered on and along the creek in that pasture for several years.  They feed on corn kernels in nearby harvested cornfields and the green shoots of winter rye in other fields.  Some winters, those Canadas are joined by flocks of snow geese, and one or two individuals each of white-fronted geese, brant geese and, maybe, a tundra swan, making an interesting mix of large waterfowl.  It's exciting to see and hear large, mixed flocks of bugling Canada geese and piping snow geese returning to this stretch of creek, group after group, after feeding in the fields on a winter's day.  Each gang of geese swings majestically into the wind to drift down into it to land gently on the creek or its surrounding, short-grass meadow.  
     The killdeer trot over the meadow and along the shores of the creek in search of invertebrates to eat.  They are robin-sized and well-camouflaged, making them difficult to see, even in open habitats.  
     There usually are at least a few killdeer in this meadow the year around; and they attract migrating shorebirds to the shores of Mill Creek in May and again in late summer, such as the pectoral sandpiper I saw the last time of was at that spot along Mill Creek.  Least sandpipers and lesser yellowlegs are the sandpiper species most likely to be along Mill Creek to poke their beaks into mud under the shallows to pull out invertebrates to ingest.  Eventually, all the shorebirds move on, except the killdeer, a few of which nest in that pasture.
     The three fish-catching birds I saw that afternoon, the heron, kingfisher and eagle, are species that spend the winter, in limited numbers, by creeks and ice-free ponds in Lancaster County cropland.  And these kinds of fish-catchers snare their prey in different ways, reducing competition for food among these species.  The heron cautiously waded the shallows of Mill Creek while watching for finny prey to snare with its long, sturdy beak.  Kingfishers either perch in limbs hanging over water, even deep water, or hover into the wind, as the one I saw was doing, in their search for small fish.  They dive beak-first into the water to grab fish in their bills.  And bald eagles perch on trees to look for larger fish to grab from the water's surface.  They grab their victims with their eight sharp, curved talons, without touching the water.           
     Overgrown thickets of red-twigged dogwoods and reed canary-grass, and floodplain trees, including ash-leafed maples and black walnuts, and crab apples, line the shores of my other favorite spot along Mill Creek.  During my visit there that afternoon in November, I saw a few mallards, two pairs of wood ducks, a muskrat, a pied-billed grebe and a kingfisher.  The beautiful woodies were left-over from nesting along that stretch of Mill Creek during the past summer.  They probably will soon migrate farther south for the winter. 
     The charming, and well-camouflaged, little grebe was a migrant from farther north or west in North America.  It was resting and fishing on Mill Creek before continuing its migration farther south.  The duck-like grebes fish by diving under water from the surface, using their legs to propel themselves forward.
     There also was a variety of small birds in the thickets along the banks of Mill Creek.  In time, I saw one each of permanent resident Carolina chickadee and song sparrow, and migrant ruby-crowned kinglet and eastern phoebe, and a pair of permanent resident northern cardinals among the thickets of dogwoods and tall grass.  They were in those thickets to find and consume small invertebrates or seeds, depending on the species of birds.  
     And there were a few each of permanent resident American robins, blue jays and cedar waxwings consuming the fruits of a crab apple tree.  These pretty birds were interesting to watch flying in and out of that tree, as some birds were filled with fruit and left, while hungry birds zipped into the tree to dine.  
     I only visited those two places along slow-moving Mill Creek for a little over two hours that November afternoon.  But I was rewarded with experiencing the food-getting activities of several kinds of interesting wild creatures in their lovely natural habitats.
    

October's Robins and Jays

     While driving through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland and woodlots the afternoon of October 22, I saw some red foliage on staghorn sumac trees and red maple trees, orange and yellow leaves on poison ivy vines, several turkey vultures and a few black vultures.  And on an extensive lawn, dotted with several white oak and pin oak trees, I saw about 100 American robins, 30 plus blue jays and a few northern flickers.  I stopped to enjoy the beauties and activities of those birds among the colored leaves of the oaks, all of which was enhanced by the late afternoon sunlight. 
     The handsome robins were divided between running across the lawn in search of earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates, and perching in the oaks.  And small groups of, and individual, robins flew from tree to tree, or from the ground to the trees, or the opposite. 
     I had not seen many robins since mid-July when they finished raising their second brood of young.  After nesting, this species gathers into groups of scores and roams here and there across the countryside in search of invertebrates and berries to eat.  During that time they are not conspicuous as they are in spring and early summer when they are raising offspring.  They usually travel around unnoticed unless someone is really looking for them.
     Although sometime in autumn, many robins migrate south to find reliable food sources through the northern winter, many other individuals stay in the north.  There they feed on a variety of berries and shelter on winter nights in coniferous trees with their densely-needled limbs that block wind and shelter the birds from predators.  The robins I was seeing on the twenty-second might stay there all winter, if the berry supplies hold out.  
     Using their stout, black beaks, the beautiful blue jays I experienced on the twenty-second gathered acorns, one at a time, from the white oaks and the pin oaks, and picked up other acorns from the ground under those trees.  Then each jay flew away with that nut in its beak to stash it in a tree cavity or poke it into the ground and bury it, as squirrels do.  Those stored nuts will be extracted and ingested through winter.  But some of the nuts are forgotten and might sprout into seedling trees the next spring, thus ensuring an acorn food supply into the future.          
     The conspicuous blue feathering of blue jays is exceptionally attractive when those birds are flying in and out of the red, yellow and brown-blanketed oaks to get acorns.  Some days in October they are in and out of those trees all day.  And thirty-some jays constantly flying in and out of multi-colored oak foliage, a few at a time, on a sunny, pleasant afternoon is an exciting, wonderful sight!
     Though few in number, the flickers were attractive and interesting among the robins on the lawn.  Those brown woodpeckers with black markings were pecking into ant hills in the soil to extract ants on their long, sticky tongues.            
     Flickers are brown, instead of black and white like their relatives, because they spend much time on the ground getting food, particularly ants.  The brown camouflages them while they are on the ground.  But flickers still chip out nurseries in dead trees to raise young.
     The robins, jays and flickers put on an intriguing, lovely show that sunny, mild October afternoon.  Each species was attracted to a different food source than the others, eliminating competition for food among them.  That was why they were so peaceful together on that one lawn.  But when the various foods run out, each kind of birds will move to another location. 

Getting Autumn Foods

     I drove through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland on October 29, 2018 to see what was stirring in the natural world.  The habitats in that cropland were an intermingled combination of fields, meadows, overgrown thickets in hedgerows, small woodlands and streams.  The weather was a bit wintry, with partly cloudy skies and cold wind.
     While driving along rural roads, I saw a flock of thousands of blackbirds in hedgerow trees bordering cornfields and a pasture.  There were so many blackbirds in those tall trees, the otherwise bare trees appeared to have black foliage.  Purple grackles dominated that horde of thousands, but some red-winged blackbirds, cowbirds and starlings were in that great gathering as well. 
     Through my 16 power binoculars, I saw those blackbird species were pretty, each in its own way.  The grackles had a purple iridescence, adult male red-wings flashed red shoulder patches when in flight and the cowbird males had black bodies and brown heads.  The starlings, which are not blackbirds, but originally are from Europe, were also attractive in their white-speckled, dark plumage.      Swarms of blackbirds drifted out of the trees like flowing, black waterways, down to a harvested corn field to eat corn kernels still lying in the fields, turning that beige field black with their abundance.  Interestingly, new arrivals on the field dropped onto it ahead of those blackbirds already on it, which spread the great flock across most of the field. 
     Always restless, after feeding for awhile most of the blackbirds suddenly flew, with a roar of wings, back into the nearby trees.  Then down to the corn field again for corn, and a meadow to feed on invertebrates, always amid a boisterous chorus of loud vocalizing.  Finally, all the blackbirds moved on, and so did I.  The grackles and red-wings will eventually drift farther south for the winter.
     Along another roadside, I saw several birds darting about in a thicket of red juniper trees, poison ivy vines and multiflora rose and tartarian honeysuckle bushes.  Stopping to see what kind of birds they were and what they were doing, I discovered they were small, mixed groups of American robins and cedar waxwings feeding on berries in that roadside thicket, particularly those of red junipers.  Each of those attractive birds of both types, bolted down a few berries, then dashed off to rest and digest among nearby foliage.  As always, each waxwing had a yellow band on the end of its tail, except one.  That bird had a light-orange band that was unusual and equally beautiful as the yellow tail bands.
     Moving on, I came to a lovely pasture dotted with many tall trees, including several pin oaks, each with some beautifully-colored leaves.  Four striking red-headed woodpeckers and several handsome blue jays repeatedly took turns dropping to the ground under the pin oaks to pick up an acorn each time and fly away swiftly with that nut in its beak.  Obviously these birds were not going to migrate south for the winter because they were stashing those acorns in tree cavities or in the ground to be eaten during winter when food is scarce.  But in the meantime, both those bird species were lovely to experience under those striking pin oak trees.  
     At another roadside thicket, I saw a small group each of lively eastern bluebirds and American goldfinches foraging for food.  The pretty bluebirds were eating the red berries on multiflora rose and the dull-white ones on poison ivy vines; and some invertebrates as well.  The handsome goldfinches were ingesting the small seeds on ragweed and fox-tail grasses.  It's not likely that these species will migrate south either, as long as berries and seeds hold out for them to eat through winter.
     All these birds were attractive and interesting as they gathered food, either to consume immediately, or store for winter.  And they were experienced in the midst of lovely, colored leaves, brightly-colored berries and leftover goldenrod and aster flowers in fields and meadows, and along roadsides.        

Migrants Seen From Our Deck- Two

     Fall migrations can be enjoyed anywhere, including from our deck in a suburb of New Holland, Pennsylvania.  I've watched the sky for migrants for a couple of hours at a time from our deck from late September until late October of 2018.  I mostly look for migrants on days of south or southwest winds when I know migrating hawks and eagles scatter off the southwest-running ridges of Pennsylvania and could be spotted almost anywhere.
     Apparently there was a southbound migration of blue jays late in September because I saw five flocks of them in one afternoon, with 8 to 30 jays in a group flapping over our neighborhood in the jays' characteristic way.  I learned later that more blue jays than usual passed over mountaintop, raptor lookouts at the same time I was seeing lots of them.  Perhaps a scarcity of food in Canada and New England this fall chased them out of their breeding ranges in greater numbers than usual. 
     One afternoon, while "on duty" on our deck, I saw, and heard, two V-shaped flocks of high-flying Canada geese heading south over our deck.  They very well could have been geese that nested in eastern Canada and were heading for the Chesapeake Bay area for the winter.  There they will spend the winter feeding on waste corn kernels and green shoots of winter rye, and resting on the bay between twice-daily feeding forays. 
     One late afternoon, early in October, a couple dozen south-bound chimney swifts cruised and swirled swiftly over our neighborhood as they fed on flying insects.  These were migrants catching a meal on the wing when they could.  After several minutes of feeding on insects, the entertaining swifts vanished as quickly as when they first came into view.  They were continuing their passage south to northern South America where they will spend the northern winter in an abundance of flying insects they can consume.
     Another day early in October, I saw a few small groups of lovely tree swallows swooping and diving after flying insects as they meandered south.  One second, I could see their white bellies and the next second I saw their iridescent blue backs and wings as they quickly tilted this way and that to catch their prey.
     At different times through October, I saw a few migrating hawks passing over our neighborhood.  One swiftly-soaring, stream-lined hawk I identified as a merlin, a raptor related to peregrines and known to catch and eat horned larks and a variety of sparrows in fields harvested to the ground around New Holland.
     Another time, in mid-October, I saw a stream-lined sharp-shinned hawk zipping over our deck.  Some birds of this species winter in suburban areas where they prey on small birds, particularly those around feeders.
     And I saw an immature harrier hawk soaring and pumping slowly and low over our neighborhood.  This kind of hawk hunts mice, small birds and grasshoppers in fields and meadows by soaring and wing-beating slowly into the wind, while watching for prey.
     But not all bird migrants were in the air when I saw them from our deck.  A few kinds of birds were eating invertebrates on our lawn, or in our trees and shrubbery.  They were resting their wings and taking on calories for the next part of their migrations.  A few migrant American robins and a yellow-shafted flicker were eating invertebrates in the short grass of our lawn.  The handsome flicker was stationed over an ant hill, where the bird jabbed his beak into the soil to stir out ants, which he snared on his long, sticky tongue. 
     And for a few days in early October, two red-breasted nuthatches and an eastern phoebe hunted invertebrates in our big pussy willow bush that was nearly devoid of foliage.  The birds were all attractive, and interesting to watch while they were here, but they were too-soon gone, continuing their migrations farther south for the winter.
     I also saw a couple species of insect migrants- several monarch butterflies and a few green darner dragonflies, mostly during late September and into early October.  The darners were quick on the wing and hard to spot, but the monarchs drifted along easily, making their beauty and grace quite evident.  Every monarch, particularly, was a thrill to see migrating south.
     Anyone can see fall migrants from any point of land in the northeastern United States, as elsewhere, even from one's own deck, porch or lawn.  Next year, get out during September and October, wherever you happen to be to see one of the grandest shows on Earth.         
               

Spawning Trout

     One winter afternoon many years ago, I was hiking through a deciduous forest in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania and came upon a fast-running, crystal-clear brook.  Stopping for a sip just for the experience of it, I laid on the snow and dipped my mouth into that tiny waterway.  As I sipped, I noticed a brook trout of a few inches long looking at me from only a foot away.  That was a thrill!
     Late in October, some years later, I was walking along another brook in another woodland in Lancaster County and noticed a few fish, that were larger than minnows, quickly darting under rocks or under the banks of the waterway at my approach.  I quietly sat back from the water with my binoculars in hand to wait for the fish to come out of hiding.  When they finally did, I looked at them through my binoculars and noticed they were small, but adult, brook trout sporting beautiful colors!  They were olive-green on top which camouflages them above the stony bottoms of their preferred waterways.  Their beige sides had red spots and their bellies were pale yellow-orange.  Their fins were orange-red, each one with a noticeable, white leading edge.  Those trout were ready to spawn, which brook trout and brown trout do during October and into November when forest canopies and floors are both covered with strikingly beautiful red, yellow and orange leaves. 
     Clear, cold, woodland streams in the woods of the northeastern United States run through beautiful carpets of multi-colored leaves on forest floors during October and November.  Some fallen foliage drops into gravel-bottomed, woodland waterways and are pushed along by the current.  And some of that foliage catches on rocks, twigs fallen into the waterways, and shorelines, creating protective homes for small creatures in those brooks and small streams. 
     Black-nosed dace, which is a kind of small, stream-lined fish, crayfish and scuds, which are crustaceans, mayfly, stonefly and damselfly larvae, and two-lined and dusky salamanders live in those protective leaf packs.  And many of those small creatures are eaten by brook trout and brown trout that live in those same waterways.    
     Brook trout and brown trout have much in common, besides spawning in October and November.  Both species are streamlined to undulate easily and gracefully into the current to maintain position while watching for food animals in the flowing water.  The young of both species are brownish with a few vertical, dark ovals on each flank, that blends them into their surroundings.  Adults of both kinds are attractive, each in their own way.  And both species prefer cold water and strong currents to be able to get the oxygen they need over their gills.  
     Both species spawn over gravel beds in flowing waterways.  Each female of both kinds uses her tail to sweep away silt to expose the gravel on the bottom where she will lay her scores of eggs.  Removing silt keeps it from burying the eggs and smothering the trout embryos.  When spawning, each female of both types is accompanied by her mate.  He repeatedly pushes against his mate to get her to expel her eggs.  When she does, the partners are side by side with their mouths open and their bodies quivering as if in ecstasy, which they probably are.  She emits her eggs and her partner expels sperm over those eggs to fertilize them.  Then each partner goes his and her separate ways and the eggs are left among the stones on the bottom.  Running water doesn't freeze and the young hatch early in the next spring.          
     Brook trout are native to northeastern North America, but brown trout are from Eurasia.  Brown trout are mostly brown, which camouflages them, but they have many dark spots on their backs and flanks.  They also have several red dots there as well.  And, although there still are a few native brook trouts in woodland streams in Lancaster County, both species of tgrout are stocked here, along with some rainbow trout, as well.
     Brook trout and brown trout are attractive species that spawn in clear, woodland streams during a beautiful month.  They add another dimension of beauty to this county, and many other areas on Earth.    

An Elk Field

     Occasionally in September of 2016, 2017 and 2018, I watched a field, one of several fields in the wooded highlands of northcentral Pennsylvania, live on our computer screen.  During those times I was thrilled to see several each of elk and white-tailed deer of various ages and both genders.  I saw a few groups of wild turkeys, one with up to 30 members in it, strolling across the field as they caught and ate grasshoppers and other kinds of insects, as well as grass and seeds.  Once I spotted a coyote prowling with its nose to the ground along the edge of the woodland.  I saw a few kinds of wildlife we associate with lawns, including a few gray squirrels picking up and burying acorns and other nuts, and a wood chuck grazing on grass.  And I heard a few types of wildlife around that field while watching the screen, including the occasional screaming of blue jays, American crows cawing and a tufted titmouse chanting.  I also heard the rasping croaks of ravens a few times, a couple of pileated woodpeckers calling, the tooting of a saw-whet owl once at dusk, and a whip-poor-will chanting its name for several minutes one evening.  And most every evening, I heard the seemingly unending and loud chanting, trilling and chirping of male tree crickets in the forest canopy bordering the field on all sides.  The seeing and hearing of these wildlife species in that field via our computer gave me insight into some of the critters in that field and other ones like it in northcentral  Pennsylvania woodlands.
     But the rutting of elk is of top interest in this field, and others like it.  About 1,000 elk live in northcentral Pennsylvania forests.  And mid-September is the peak of their rut.  I have been happy to see adult cows, calves, young bulls and at least two large bulls come into the field surveyed by a Pennsylvania Game Commission camera, twenty-four, seven from early Sptember to mid-October.  Up to about 18 stately elk daily enter the field late in the afternoon or at dusk and stay until dark and later, as long as they are not disturbed by people, which they have been a couple of times that I am aware of.  Most of the elk graze on what appears to be grass in the field the majority of the time.  But occasionally one or two big, elegant bulls with magnificent racks shrilly bugle their challenges to each other, though I never yet saw them engage in pushing matches in that field.               
     Though adult elk are majestic, I still am more thrilled by the sight of the more familiar sleek and graceful white-tailed deer.  Several deer, including some majestic bucks with big racks, almost daily enter the elk field late in the afternoon and at dusk, as the elk do.  And the elegant deer graze on the same vegetation in that field.  But white-tails' rutting doesn't begin until the middle of October, so their is not rutting activity yet among them.
     I have seen a few groups of wild turkeys, up to 30 in one flock, strolling in a line across the field at different times.  There they grabbed and ate grasshoppers and other insects, and ingested grass blades and seeds.  Wild turkeys are woodland birds, but they often do much feeding in overgrown fields and corn fields adjacent to the woods where they are more visible to us.
     The coyote I saw with its nose to the ground probably was sniffing out mice and other kinds of small animals.  It trotted back and forth in the open a few seconds, then vanished into a thicket on the edge of the woods.
     Ravens, pileated woodpeckers, saw-whet owls and whip-poor-wills are, basically, woodland birds that nest in Pennsylvania.  Ravens are increasing in numbers in eastern North America, including Pennsylvania, and we are seeing and hearing them here more often in recent years.  This crow relative is adaptable and recently has been inhabiting less than ideal habitats for themselves.  But they still are considered to be wilderness birds and it's thrilling to see or hear them, wherever they may be.
     Big as crows, pileated woodpeckers are woodland birds that adapted to less than ideal conditions, including nesting in woods smaller than forests.  But these biggest of North American woodpeckers are still thrilling to see and hear.
     The calls of saw-whet owls sound like "toot, toot, toot, toot" and so on, which might sound like someone sharpening a saw in the woods.  Saw-whets live in tree cavities in woods, but hunt mice and insects in woods and nearby fields.  Many members of this small, night-hunting species migrate south during October.   
     Whip-poor-wills raise two chicks a summer on leafy forest floors in eastern North America.  Usually only a voice in the dark of night, they fly about forests to catch and ingest moths and other night-flying insects.  In fall, they migrate to Central and South America for the winter.
     I enjoyed experiencing wildlife in the elk field, because of a lie camera and our computer.  That wildlife represents their various species in the fields and forests of the northcentral part of my home state.  Live cameras take us places we might, otherwise, not easily get to.      

Autumn Shorebirds in Farmland

     When driving through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland every August, September and into October, I watch for migrating sandpipers and plovers around rainwater puddles in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania fields and meadows, both of which are human-made habitats.  Much rain fell locally in late-summer and fall of 2018.  I knew there would be many pools in farmland that would attract tired, hungry southbound shorebirds ready to feed on invertebrates they pull from mud and shallow water at the edges of puddles in fields and pastures.  Then, well fed and rested, those sandpipers and plovers will continue their migrations southward to their wintering territories.
     In fall, over the years, I have seen several different kinds of shorebirds in partly flooded Lancaster County farmland, but the species I see most abundantly are least sandpipers, lesser yellowlegs, which are a kind of sandpiper, solitary sandpipers and killdeer plovers.  On August 20 of this year, for example, I saw about a dozen shorebirds around and in an average-sized, living-room-sized pool in a partly bare meadow of short grass near the rural road I was on.  I counted four lesser yellowlegs and four solitary sandpipers wading on their long legs in the puddle, three sparrow-sized, short-legged least sandpipers on the edge of the water and a killdeer plover trotting over the mud near the water.  Developing different lengths of legs and beaks because of genes, these shorebird relatives feed in different niches around water, which reduces competition for food among them.   
     Shorebirds are camouflaged in their open niches with little or no cover.  Yellowlegs, for example, are gray, which blends them into the still waters they extract food from.  Least sandpipers and killdeer are brown on top to blend them into mud around that shallow water.   
     On August 21, I saw five least sandpipers in mud, and tiny puddles made by the hoof prints of cattle trampling down the short grass in another pasture.  It was interesting to think how those small sandpipers coming south from their nesting territories on the Arctic tundra found that little patch of mud and hoof-sized pools where they probed their beaks into the mud after invertebrates to ingest.
     About the end of August, I found a dozen local killdeer plovers around long, water-filled ruts made by a tractor in a field of one-foot-tall soybean plants.  Those brown and white plovers were stunning standing by the puddles bordered by dark-green soybean foliage.  Killdeer were in that field when it was devoid of vegetation; before the soybean plants sprouted.  Those shorebirds stayed around the flooded ruts in that field as the crop plants grew.  And there the birds picked up and consumed a variety of invertebrates.
     On September 6, I visited an outdoor ice-skating pond, that had a couple of inches of rainwater in it, in a large short-grass meadow.  Several killdeer trotted and stopped, trotted and stopped, between the muddy edge of the water and the lush grass as they watched for edibles.  About a dozen least sandpipers walked in half-inch-deep water and ate tiny invertebrates from the mud and water.  And around eight lesser yellowlegs waded in deeper parts of the pool and poked the water and mud for invertebrates.  Again there was a diversity of shorebirds because of at least a few niches in and around that shallow pond in the midst of a larger sea of grass.
     Toward the end of September, I spotted several shorebirds in a few shallow rain puddles in a half-denuded short-grass pasture.  There were about a dozen least sandpipers scurrying along the edges of the shallow pools, one lesser yellowlegs walking through the middle of a puddle and a few killdeer trotting over the mud by a temporary, shallow pond.  All were feeding as fast as they could to build up fat and resources for the next part of their migration.
     And on the sunny afternoon of October 1 of this year, I happened to spot a sky-reflecting trickle of clear rainwater flowing through a low crease in a harvested corn field that was replanted with winter rye.that will enrich the soil and hold it down against erosion.  The long rows of beige corn stubble and two-inch tall, lush-green rye sprouts were bathed in sunlight.  At least three killdeer were picturesque standing in the trickle, surrounded by a human-made, sun-soaked and pretty habitat of corn stubble and rye shoots.
     Hundreds of south-bound shorebirds rest and feed by puddles in many fields and pastures in autumn in southeastern Pennsylvania.  There they find food and rest, and we humans can enjoy their presence and activities, and think about where they came from and where they are going.  They are exciting to experience on human-made habitats.                  
          

Aster Buffet

     Yesterday, October 1, I drove through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland for a couple hours to experience what was going in nature.  The weather was sunny and warm; a lovely day to be out.  I saw clumps of goldenrod flowers on tall stalks, orange cow pumpkins, beige, standing cornstalks and green and yellow soybean foliage in the fields as I drove along.  Then, suddenly, I came to a big, bushy-looking aster plant with hundreds of pale-lavender flowers along the damp edge of the country road I was on.  Scores of insects of various kinds were sipping nectar from those beautiful aster blossoms.  I had to stop and experience that aster buffet.
     Asters of various kinds begin to bloom in September and reach a climax of flowers early in October.  During October, some abandoned fields are white with the white blossoms of a kind of aster, making those open spaces look like snow fell only on them.  Many people plant New York asters, with their deep-purple blooms, on their lawns.  And asters with small, pale-lavender blooms are common in wet meadows and roadside ditches.  Those lovely flowers are my favorite asters.
     August, September and October are the months of insects in Lancaster County.  They are more abundant then than any other time of year, providing beauty and intrigue to those who look for it.   
     I saw many pretty pearl crescent butterflies, handsome meadow fritillary butterflies and yellow sulphur butterflies fluttering among those aster blooms.  I also saw some each of least skipper butterflies and cabbage white butterflies.  And I saw several worker bumble bees and a few worker honey bees among those aster flowers as well.  All those insects were peacefully sipping nectar.
     The various kinds of asters in the eastern United States provide the last copious supplies of sugary nectar to a variety of insects still active in the warm afternoons of October.  When the aster flowers die toward the end of the month, the insects are out of food.  But the insects, themselves, have either died in heavy frosts or sought shelter to wait out the winter.
     The beautiful, brown and orange pearl crescents are often the most abundant butterfly species on aster blossoms, partly because they consumed aster stems and leaves when they were caterpillars.  Adult pearl crescents, therefore, are right at aster nectar because that is where they were larvae and pupae.  They have no need to travel to find nectar sources.
     The attractive meadow frittilary butterflies are common in farmland because their larvae ingest the leaves of violets, which are common in fields and lawns, and along roadsides.  Those are the same human-made habitats that asters bloom in.
     Cute, little least skippers, that have big, dark eyes, are abundant along roadsides because their larvae ingest grass, which is common along rural roads.  These skippers as adults usually don't have far to travel to find aster nectar.
     Almost all the asters I saw blooming beautifully here and there along country roads and small waterways, and on lawns, that warm afternoon were swarming with nectaring butterflies and bees.  Those plants and their attractive insects brought lots of interesting life to Lancaster County farmland.
     I also saw a few each of spur-throated and meadow grasshoppers clinging to grass stems under the big aster plant I was visiting and heard a couple of chirping field crickets at the base of that aster.  These related, field and roadside insects help make croplands interesting, and provide food for predatory American kestrels, screech owls, striped skunks, red foxes, two kinds of toads and other creatures.
     In fact, while watching butterflies and bees on that particular aster plant, I saw a big, green praying mantis stalking insects on it and an attractive, black and yellow garden spider wrapping a paralyzed sulphur butterfly in its webbing on that aster.             
     I had an enjoyable time watching those interesting insects and the pretty spider on that beautiful aster in a roadside ditch.  It is great how adaptable many kinds of wild plants and animals are to be abundant in farmland that is plowed, planted, cultivated and harvested every year, making life for those wild beings difficult.

Climax of the Year

     Sometime around September 21st is the autumn equinox and, to me, the middle of fall and the climax of the year.  The spring and fall equinoxes are the only times of the year when each part of the entire Earth receives 12 hours of sunlight and 12 hours of darkness, from pole to pole, as a result of our planets' tilting 23 degrees on its axis as it circles the sun.
     According to the human calendar, autumn is from about September 21 to around December 21, a total of three months.  Each season is three months long.  But I think fall in the Mid-Atlantic States runs from about August 7 to around November 7, a total of three months, with September 21 in the middle of that season.  I see autumn in August because of the lesser amount of daylight each succeeding day, the migration of shorebirds, swallows and other bird species and the climax of much plant growth.
     By September 21 in the Middle Atlantic States, most vegetation attained its peak of growth and produced its seeds nuts or berries.  It reached its climax.  Weedy fields won't get any weedier. Thickets of trees, shrubs, vines and tall weeds and grasses won't get any thicker and some gardens, roadsides and abandoned fields won't get any more overgrown with plants than late September.
     Most seeds, nuts and berries will be eaten by rodents, birds and other kinds of wildlife through fall and winter.  But those that survive being ingested, and find suitable conditions, will sprout during the warmth of the next spring.
     Wild plants and animals prepare for the coming winter in autumn.  Many kinds of birds migrate south to find reliable food sources.  Their job done, deciduous leaves and their green chlorophyll die, revealing the reds and yellows that were in those leaves all summer, but dominated by chlorophyll.  By late September one can see colored leaves on black gum, staghorn sumac, sassafras, red maple, sugar maple and a few other types of trees.  The tops of many ground plants die, but their perennial roots live and sprout new tops the next spring.  The cold-blooded reptiles and amphibians, and many kinds of invertebrates, retreat to sheltering places for the winter.  Wood chucks and black bears put on layers of fat to survive that harshest of seasons.  Squirrels, chipmunks, beavers and blue jays store food for winter consumption.  And those alleged forecasters of winter's severity, the handsome, bristly woolly bear caterpillars, the larvae of Isabella moths, bustle across country roads in search of shelter in the ground for the winter.
     While I rejoice in the overwhelming bounty and beauty of wild vegetation and wildlife in fall here in the Mid-Atlantic States, I also feel a bit sad around the autumn equinox, and in fall, because they represent the coming of cold, snow, ice, increased darkness each day, and the resulting dormancy of many wild plants and animals.  Maybe it's because most wildlife is not courting and much vegetation is dying, reminding me that all life, including mine, comes to an end.  Cheering bird song no longer fills the woods and thickets.  Vegetation is no longer growing.
     But there is much beauty and serenity in our woods, fields and roadsides during late September and into October, including the beauties of flowers that bloom during late summer and into fall.  Some of the more common, pretty flowers we see along roadsides and field edges are goldenrods and Jerusalem artichokes with their boldly-yellow blossoms on tall stems.  Some damp meadows and roadsides are dominated by a couple of species of asters, one kind with small, white flowers and the other with little, pale-lavender ones.  Other flowering plants in certain moist pastures and roadsides include the abundant and bushy-looking spotted jewelweeds with orange blooms, bur-marigolds that have yellow blossoms, smartweeds with their pink flowers and great lobelia that have blue flowers.
     The innumerable aster and jewelweed flowers supply much nectar to wildlife in autumn, the last copious amounts of that sugary liquid those creatures will get for the year.  Many bees, butterflies and other kinds of insects visit aster blossoms, while migrating ruby-throated hummingbirds dip their long bills into jewelweed blooms.        
     The countryside in the Mid-Atlantic States is beautiful around the autumn equinox and into October.  And there is a profound and notable climax of plant growth and wildlife activities at that same lovely time of year.  Then nature prepares for the coming winter, which is a period of dormancy used to gather resources for the next push of growth in spring.        
    

Migrants Seen From Our Deck

     I have watched the September migrations of birds and insects from many places in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, including on ridge tops and in farmland.  And on September 20, a few days ago, I saw migrations of birds and insects from our deck in a suburban area of New Holland, Pennsylvania.  I started at 12 noon that day when I spotted an osprey and a broad-winged hawk soaring southwest over our house.
     The sky was partly clear that day, with temperatures in the high seventies and the wind blowing from the south.  Hawks and eagles generally follow the southwest running Appalachian Mountains on strong north and northwest winds.  Those winds push up the northern slopes, forcing the raptors up as they sail along the ridges for miles with scarcely a wing-beat, which conserves their energy.  But on south and southwest winds, the raptors scatter in a southwesterly direction over farmland, suburbs and cities, as those birds continue on to their wintering territories.
     Hawks and eagles that migrate over farmland and cities rely on thermals to give them lift for easy soaring for miles and miles.  Thermals are rising columns of warm air, heated by sunlight shining on the soil of fields and the concrete and asphalt of cities.  As the warmed air rises, it pushes the raptors up with it.  
     While watching the sky from our deck, I saw about eight chimney swifts careening swiftly across the sky after flying insects to eat.  Probably birds that hatched here in New Holland, these swifts will soon join others of their kind in flocks to drift south to northern South America to consume insects while waiting out the northern winter.
     I saw an occasional monarch butterfly flutter over our neighborhood.  Presumably, some were going to Florida to spend the winter, while others were traveling to certain wooded mountains in Mexico.  But each one was migrating to the place where its wintering great-grandparents came from in March of this year.  Miracle of miracles, they find their way without being in those wintering places before.  
     At different times, I saw two groups of broad-winged hawks, named for their wide wings, swirling fairly low over our neighborhood, one flock had eight hawks in it, while the other had seven broadies and two bald eagles, one of the eagles being an immature bird.  As I watched, each gathering of raptors suddenly stopped whirling and peeled off in a line toward the southwest.  What a thrill to see two bald eagles over our house at one time!
     About 3:00 pm, I saw a flock of about 24 broad-winged hawks swirling together before a white cloud high over our property.  I would not have seen those hawks without that cloud formation in their background.  And, as always, the broadies soared out of their circle and sailed swiftly away in a line to the southwest.             
     I have always enjoyed puffy, white or gray cumulus clouds, the kind we can imagine looking like most any objects on Earth, including human faces.  But now these floating pillows in the sky help me see, and identify high-flying birds by their silhouettes and styles of flying or soaring.
     Late in the afternoon I saw two flocks of blue jays migrating low through our neighborhood.  Each bird flapped in the way of its species, which helped identify it.  One group had about 20 individuals, while the other had seven.  These jays could have been from farther north in the United States or southern Canada, places where they raised young.  Both those northern areas can have harsh winters.
     While watching the sky for migrants, I also saw some what I thought were local birds; non-migrants.  A red-tailed hawk flew low over our neighborhood, probably searching for gray squirrels.  I saw a Cooper's hawk dashing over our lawn in its quest for mourning doves and house sparrows to catch and eat.  And I saw a few turkey vultures soaring majestically over our home.  
     I checked the September 20 statistics of Hawk Mountain Sanctuary on the Blue Ridge Mountains of Pennsylvania.  Observers there saw few migrating raptors that day because of the south winds, but tallied many monarchs and blue jays, as I did at home. 
     Migrant raptors in autumn can be spotted almost anywhere in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere, when winds blow from the south or southwest.  One can even see migrating hawks and eagles at home on those winds, if one watches for those birds high in the sky.   

Migrants Seen From Our Deck

Hints of Autumn

     On the afternoon of September 14 of this year, I took a drive through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland to see what was happening in nature.  The sky was overcast with temperatures in the high 70's and a humid breeze, which is often typical weather here in early autumn.  There was a "feel of fall in the air".
     After a ten minute drive from home, I came to a meadow, a stream and a bottomland woodlot, all in one place that I occasionally visit.  There I saw the floodplain trees that grow along the waterway and in the pasture, several kinds of roadside, fall flowers, yellow sulphur butterflies and bees among the blossoms, and a few colored leaves.
     Floodplain trees in the woods include sycamores, shagbark hickories and river birches with their picturesque bark, white, swamp white and pin oaks with their acorns that feed white-tailed deer, gray squirrels and deer mice, black walnuts with their nuts that only squirrels can chew into, and silver, red and ash-leafed maples.  These trees adapted to tolerating the constantly moist soil of a bottomland, creating their own communities of trees in a riparian forest.  Sycamores have mottled bark, river birches have bark that peels into thin, curly strips that remain attached to trunks and limbs, and the hickories have long, vertical strips of solid bark, each one loosening at both ends from trunks and branches, giving the hickories a shaggy appearance.
     The autumn flowers I saw along the sunny edge of the woods and in the meadow were the orange ones of spotted jewelweeds, the yellow blossoms of pale jewelweeds, the golden flowers of goldenrod and tickseed sunflowers, the hot-pink blooms of ironweed, the pink of smartweed, the white of knotweed and the blue blossoms of great lobelias.  All these plants, but the lobelias are tall, and all of them, but goldenrods grow best in damp soil.
     Bumble bees visited the sunflower blooms to sip nectar.  Tiny skipper butterflies were on lobelia flowers while several yellow sulphur butterflies visited ironweed blossoms.  These insects added more interest to the flowers.
     Many of the black walnut trees and poison ivy vines had some yellow leaves on them, hinting again at autumn.  The poison ivy vines also had clusters of off-white berries that mice, squirrels and berry-eating birds consume in fall and winter, with no harmful affects.
     There also were some colorful berries on other kinds of plants on the edge of the woods.  Pokeweeds had deep-purple ones on pink stems, which causes a pretty color combination.  And multiflora rose bushes had numerous red berries among the green ones that didn't ripen yet.
     There were other kinds of invertebrates along the woods edge and in the meadow that indicated autumn.  I heard a mole cricket chirping from his underground burrow in the meadow, a call to females of his kind to join him in mating in his tunnel.  A big, beautiful female black and yellow garden spider perched in her large orb web hung from the wires of a fence.  She had grown all summer and was now ready to reproduce.  And there were several dragonflies of some kind hawking low over the tall grass of the pasture in search of flying insects to catch and ingest.  Those dragonflies might have been migrants, stopping long enough for a meal.
     I saw only a few birds in that spot in farmland, one per habitat.  A great blue heron flew up from the stream where it had been fishing.  A Carolina chickadee flitted among twigs in the woods, probably picking up tiny invertebrates to eat.  And an American kestrel, perhaps a migrant, perched on top of a dead tree in the pasture as that little hawk watched for mice and grasshoppers to ingest.
     After about an hour, I left that spot.  But I was filled with the beauty and intrigue of early fall.            
        

Sphinx Moths

     Sphinx moths are so-named for their smooth-skinned caterpillars' reared up heads when threatened that makes them look fierce, and making them resemble the Egyptian sphinx.  The beautiful adult sphinx moths are also called "hawk moths" for their stiff, swept-back wings that beat rapidly, causing swift flight.  Each species in this moth grouping has a stout, hairy thorax and abdomen and attractive color patterns, most of which blend the moths into their surroundings to avoid predators.
     Adult sphinx moths of each species have long proboscises they dip into flowers while hovering to sip sugary nectar from them.  And each proboscis is coiled away under the head when not in use.  The three kinds of hawk moths I see most commonly here in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania are clear-wing hummingbird moths, white-lined sphinx moths and tomato hornworms, in that order of sighting them.
     The lovely and fascinating clear-wings resemble hummingbirds in the way they hover before flowers in daylight and bumble bees because of their size, shape and coloring.  Each one has a two-inch wing-span and clear, see-through spots in their wings.  The tips of their abdomens look "feathery" and, to me, are shaped like the end of the tails on crayfish.  And they have large eyes with what appears to be a pupil in each one.
     Clear-wings live among gardens, thickets, hedgerows and woodland edges, places where flowers are likely to be, through much of the eastern United States.  And its in those habitats that the larvae consume honeysuckle, dogbane and the foliage of other kinds of plants.  Clear-wing caterpillars are mostly green, which camouflages them among the plants they eat, and there is a small, red dot on each side of every segment.  And like the larvae of all sphinx moths, each clear-wing caterpillar has a fleshy "horn" on the upper part of its last segment.  That growth resembles a stinger to discourage would-be predators, but it is a bluff because it is harmless.
     The handsome adult white-lined sphinx moths have three inch wing spans and are mostly light-brown with white lines on their bodies, heads and wings, a color pattern that camouflages them by day when they are resting.  They also have striking pink and black on each back wing and large eyes, in which one can see their pupils. 
     This species lives in pastures, gardens and woodland edges across much of the United States.  And like most hawk moths, white-lines visit blossoms at night.
     White-line caterpillars are green and dark-striped, lengthwise from head to rear, which blends them into the plants they consume.  They ingest the foliage of evening primrose, grape, tomatoes, apple and elm trees, and the leaves of other kinds of vegetation.
     Tomato hornworm moths live in the eastern half of the United States.  This attractive, nocturnal hawk moth has a four inch wing-span, a mottled gray and brown coloring all over, except for ten obvious and lovely orange spots on their abdomens, five on each side.
     I've seen tomato hornworm larvae far more often than the adults in my lifetime.  I see those caterpillars mostly in tobacco fields where they ingest tobacco leaves.  Each larva grows up to four inches long, is mostly green, which camouflages them among the foliage they eat, and has a white line diagonally across each segment and a fake "eye" on each side of every body section.  These caterpillars can be destructive to crops, including tomatoes and tomato leaves.
      Sphinx moth larvae pupate in brownish, crispy cases in the ground.  The developing proboscis of each caterpillar is so long it grows outside the main case, making it look like a tiny jug with a handle in the soil.   
     Sphinx moths are unique and attractive.  They are well worth spotting in their sunny, flower-filled habitats.              

Autumn Insect Flowers

     Gatherings, even swarms, of bees and butterflies congregate on a variety of beautiful pink and purple flowers during September, into October, to sip sugary nectar.  Some of the last blooms of the year in southeastern Pennsylvania that produce copious flows of nectar that attracts multitudes of insects, they include the pink blossoms of red clover, ironweed and purple loosestrife, and the lavender flowers of alfalfa and New York asters.  All these blossoms are appealing in themselves, and intriguing in the many insects that are attracted to them during warm, sunny afternoons in fall.  Together, they make autumn fields, meadows, lawns and roadsides, all of which are human-made habitats, more enjoyable to experience.  
     Red clover is a kind of hay crop originally from Europe.  The lovely flowers of this species cover acres of farmland between cuttings during summer and autumn, and many stretches of rural roadsides that are not mowed.  Periodic cutting of the plants in the fields causes them to produce more, and more, blooms, spangling those fields with pink and the fluttering of colorful butterflies of several kinds.  Plus white-tailed deer, wood chucks and cottontail rabbits from nearby thickets and woods ingest red clover plants, the chucks during the day and the other species at dusk and dawn mostly.
     Native ironweed grows up to five feet tall in the damper parts of sunny pastures, and they have hot-pink blooms on top of their stems from August into October.  Those attractive flowers are often nearly covered with a variety of butterflies, including a few swallowtail species, cabbage whites, yellow sulphurs, monarchs, silver-spotted skippers and others, helping make those meadows be more alive.
     Purple loosestrife is an alien, invasive species originally from Europe.  Though abundant in many parts of the eastern United States, I don't see much of it here in southeastern Pennsylvania.  This plant can grow to five feet high in moist, sunny habitats, including cattail marshes, and has pretty, pink flowers all along its stems.  And those plants swarm with bees and butterflies during late summer into fall.
     Originally from Europe, alfalfa is an abundant hay crop that covers thousands of acres in southeastern Pennsylvania.  This plant has pale-lavender blooms that have a sweet scent.  And, of course, gatherings of buzzing bees and fluttering butterflies move among those lovely, innumerable blossoms to sip nectar all summer and deep into autumn.       
     New York asters are a native species that has deep-purple flower petals and yellow stamens in each bloom, making a striking contrast of colors from late August into October.  This beautiful plant grows in abandoned fields, often with the golden blooms of goldenrod, making a lovely combination of colors, here and there along country roads, and in some lawns of people who appreciate them.  And like all the blossoms in this grouping, these asters are attractive to many bees and butterflies and other types of insects seeking nectar.
     These flowers bloom late in summer and into fall.  They are beautiful in themselves and intriguing with swarms of insects of several kinds that get the last flows of nectar of the year from them.  Readers should try to get out and enjoy those lovely blossoms, and the multitudes of interesting insects that visit them.