I see four kinds of adaptable seacoast birds, including boat-tailed grackles, laughing gulls, rock pigeons and brown pelicans, on the Kure Beach, North Carolina fishing pier, year around in 2017 and 2018, via our home computer. Though that pier almost always has people on it, even in winter, those bird species are almost always on it, too, suggesting to me the birds are there to rest and get food. Some people clean the fish they catch there, and, of course, there are crumbs from peoples' lunches and snacks. People on the pier don't bother the birds, much to the birds' benefits. The birds don't intimidate the people, either. It's a case of live and let live on both sides. And these are all beautiful kinds of birds, in their feathering and their adapting themselves to their environments for survival.
Each bird species has a different reason to be on that pier. Boat-tailed grackles, for example, are there mostly to get tidbits of fish and lunches. Each grackle walks among the people in search of whatever edibles happen to be on the pier. Males are almost the size of fish crows, but slimmer, with black feathering that is iridescently purple, and long, keeled tails, like a boat. Females are light-brown and smaller than their mates. Both genders have long legs and tails. Boat-tails are scavengers, but they also consume invertebrates and seeds on lawns and beaches.
Boat-tailed grackles nest in small, noisy colonies in shoreline trees along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts. Many of them commute to fishing piers in hopes of scavenging "easy" food, but spend nights in those trees.
Laughing gulls are THEE birds of the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts of the eastern United States. They are the abundant, noisy gulls that are gray on top, white below and have black heads in spring and early summer. They nest colonially in salt marshes and catch small fish and invertebrates, and scavenge whatever edibles they can wherever they can, including on salt marshes, beaches, boardwalks and piers. They, and their boisterous, laugh-like cries, seem to be everywhere along the seacoast. Many of them land on the pier railings to rest from foraging for food, but they take their share of fish and lunch scraps while on those piers.
Late in summer and through autumn and winter, adult laughing gulls are gray and white as usual, but without black feathering on their heads. They mostly have white head feathers during that time.
And toward late summer, young laughing gulls of the year join their parents on salt marshes, beaches, boardwalks and piers to get food the same as the adults do. Young gulls are mostly brown on top and white below, with white tails, each one with a dark, terminal band.
Rock pigeons roost year around and raise young during warmer months under piers, including the Kure Beach pier, as they do on buildings and rocky quarry walls, in barns, and under boardwalks and bridges. Pigeons traditionally roost and nest on rocky cliffs along the Mediterranean Sea. But some of them were domesticated for meat and eggs, and some of their descendants were brought to the United States with European colonists. Some American pigeons escaped captivity and have wild descendants in this country to this day, including along the seacoast, a habitat they are adapted to.
Pigeons living under piers ingest crumbs from bread, crackers and similar foods on those piers. But they also fly to beaches, boardwalks and streets along the coastline to get similar foods. And some pigeons fly to fields to ingest weed, grass and grain seeds, but return to the piers to roost.
Brown pelicans, which are common along the Atlantic Coast of North Carolina, and farther south, rest on the railings of piers, including at Kure Beach, between fishing forays. Of all the coastal birds in the eastern United States, the omnipresent laughing gulls, and handsome brown pelicans, are two of the most interesting species to watch. Laughing gulls are everywhere along the coast, wheeling and soaring effortlessly into the wind, calling loudly and catching food that is thrown to them in mid-air. But the large, majestic pelicans fly elegantly in long lines, alternately soaring lightly as one bird, then pumping their wings strongly, again all birds in a line at once, as they power along the ocean surf and beaches.
Small groups of brown pelicans dive spectacularly into the water, from about 60 feet high, to catch fish in their over-sized bills. Each bird folds back its wings just before entering the water with a splash. The beaks take in fish and water, but strain out the water, leaving the fish to be swallowed.
Brown pelicans are becoming more common and pushing farther north along the Atlantic Coast of North America. There seems to be more of these magnificent birds in North Carolina these days; happily for them and us.
Boat-tailed grackles, laughing gulls, rock pigeons and brown pelicans are adaptable species that are maintaining their numbers. These interesting species learned to avail themselves of human-made constructions and activities to their benefit and ours. Their populations are flourishing and we can enjoy their presence and activities, close at hand, the year around.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Hornets' and Bees' Nests
A few days ago I saw two bald-faced hornet nests, one hanging from a low tree limb over a rural road in a small woodlot and the other on a low branch on a young tree in a meadow, both in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland. Each hornets' nest was about the size of a basketball, but oblong, was mottled-gray, and had an entrance on the side close to the bottom. Several female worker hornets were buzzing in or out of the entrance, while others were adding "paper" to the outside of their larvae nursery.
Bald-faced hornets and honey bees are colonial-nesting insects in the same family. Female workers of both species create large nurseries to raise larvae during the warmer months each year. Those females work all day, every day of their adult lives, and swarms of them will sting invaders of their homes. The queens of each species involve themselves only with egg-laying.
Worker hornets make nurseries, and the six-sided cells inside each one, by scraping dead wood with their mouths from trees and fences, mixing saliva with that pulp while they chew it into paper, then add that paper to their nest. Each nest is tiny in the beginning of summer, worked on by the queen and her first few workers, her daughters. But paper is constantly added to the nursery shell, and its cells, as the hornet population grows, until that construction is much larger by autumn.
The queen lays an egg in each nursery cell and the young are protected from weather and predators by the papery shell surrounding the cluster of cells in each hornets' nest. Worker hornets sip sugary flower nectar, but they feed paralyzed insects to the larvae in their cells. Each youngster grows in its six-sided nursery, pupates in it and emerges from it as an adult hornet ready to do the work of its community. The emptied cell is then cleaned by workers and another egg is laid in it.
Frost in October kills the worker and male hornets, but the queen and her new, young queens that hatched in her paper ball, drop out of the nursery and burrow deep into the ground to survive the coming winter. By mid-December that paper construction should be safe to collect, if one wants to. The hornets will never use it again.
In North America, we see most honey bee colonies in built bee hives, but some communities of that species live in tree hollows, in woods and older suburban areas. When a new queen bee emerges from her pupal cell, the old queen leaves the hive with about half the workers and starts a new colony in another sheltered place, often in a tree cavity. Workers make waxy, six-sided cells by "sweating" honey through their bodies and scraping it off. Those cells are used either to store honey or raise young. The bee larvae are fed a mixture of honey and flower pollen. Each grows in its cell, pupates in it and emerges as an adult female worker ready to do the work of her colony. Unfertilized eggs, however, develop into drones (males).
Young worker bees clean the hive, store honey in cells, feed larvae, fan air into the hive with their wings to cool it, and feed the drones and the queen. Older workers gather nectar and pollen from flowers and turn the nectar into honey on their way home in a hive or tree hollow.
I have seen wild honey bee colonies in tree cavities in such far-flung places as here in Lancaster County, and in Charlotte, North Carolina and Savannah, Georgia. There probably are wild honey bees throughout much of the United States. They just aren't always noticed.
Hornets' nests and wild honey bee communities help make the outdoors more interesting. And those colonial insects are instrumental in pollinating flowers, including those of our crops.
Bald-faced hornets and honey bees are colonial-nesting insects in the same family. Female workers of both species create large nurseries to raise larvae during the warmer months each year. Those females work all day, every day of their adult lives, and swarms of them will sting invaders of their homes. The queens of each species involve themselves only with egg-laying.
Worker hornets make nurseries, and the six-sided cells inside each one, by scraping dead wood with their mouths from trees and fences, mixing saliva with that pulp while they chew it into paper, then add that paper to their nest. Each nest is tiny in the beginning of summer, worked on by the queen and her first few workers, her daughters. But paper is constantly added to the nursery shell, and its cells, as the hornet population grows, until that construction is much larger by autumn.
The queen lays an egg in each nursery cell and the young are protected from weather and predators by the papery shell surrounding the cluster of cells in each hornets' nest. Worker hornets sip sugary flower nectar, but they feed paralyzed insects to the larvae in their cells. Each youngster grows in its six-sided nursery, pupates in it and emerges from it as an adult hornet ready to do the work of its community. The emptied cell is then cleaned by workers and another egg is laid in it.
Frost in October kills the worker and male hornets, but the queen and her new, young queens that hatched in her paper ball, drop out of the nursery and burrow deep into the ground to survive the coming winter. By mid-December that paper construction should be safe to collect, if one wants to. The hornets will never use it again.
In North America, we see most honey bee colonies in built bee hives, but some communities of that species live in tree hollows, in woods and older suburban areas. When a new queen bee emerges from her pupal cell, the old queen leaves the hive with about half the workers and starts a new colony in another sheltered place, often in a tree cavity. Workers make waxy, six-sided cells by "sweating" honey through their bodies and scraping it off. Those cells are used either to store honey or raise young. The bee larvae are fed a mixture of honey and flower pollen. Each grows in its cell, pupates in it and emerges as an adult female worker ready to do the work of her colony. Unfertilized eggs, however, develop into drones (males).
Young worker bees clean the hive, store honey in cells, feed larvae, fan air into the hive with their wings to cool it, and feed the drones and the queen. Older workers gather nectar and pollen from flowers and turn the nectar into honey on their way home in a hive or tree hollow.
I have seen wild honey bee colonies in tree cavities in such far-flung places as here in Lancaster County, and in Charlotte, North Carolina and Savannah, Georgia. There probably are wild honey bees throughout much of the United States. They just aren't always noticed.
Hornets' nests and wild honey bee communities help make the outdoors more interesting. And those colonial insects are instrumental in pollinating flowers, including those of our crops.
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Skipper Butterflies
Occasionally I walk along the grassy shoulders of country roadsides in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland during August and September to experience lovely wild flowers, grasshoppers and other interesting living beings in those long strips of vegetation between blacktop and fields. And I do see pretty flowers, a few kinds of birds, leaping grasshoppers and other types of insects, including a few species of attractive, lively skipper butterflies that zip low over the grass of roadside shoulders in some abundance when I approach them on foot.
Skippers are intriguing and beautiful insects in several ways. They have a quick, darting flight pattern that attracts attention, even though most species of skippers have one and a half inch wing spans or less. When perched, their front two wings are swept-back and held upright at a 45 degree angle, while their back two wings are held flatly, making them resemble tiny jet fighter airplanes. When examined closely, one will notice that they have stout, furry bodies of attractive, camouflaging colors. And they have a large, dark eye on each side of the head that looks soulful, like the eyes of white-tailed deer and eastern bluebirds. Those intriguing, beautiful eyes are the skippers' most appealing feature.
Most of the 30 plus skipper species in open, sunny habitats in Pennsylvania look pretty much alike, showing their close ancestry to each other. Only slight differences distinguish skipper species, here and throughout much of the warmer parts of the world where they live.
The larvae of most skipper species are smooth-skinned, with camouflaging patterns on those colored skins. Some larvae, like those of silver-spotted skippers, have two light-orange dots on their maroon heads; spots that look like eyes!
The caterpillars of most skippers ingest grass and sedge that grow along rural roadsides in this area, and elsewhere across much of the United States. Those plants are why these small butterflies stay close to country road edges. Female skippers lay eggs on grass and sedge, the only foods of their youngsters. These skipper larvae don't cause damage because roadside grass is mowed occasionally. Silver-spotted skippers are the largest, darkest species of skipper in Lancaster County. They acquired that name because of the white blotch on each fore-wing that looks like a bit of white paint splattered on those wings.
Silver-spot caterpillars feed on bean plant foliage, including that of soybeans. I, however, have never seen damage in any soybean crop in this area because those skippers have not become overwhelmingly common.
Some skipper caterpillars of various species are eaten by a variety of adaptable, common creatures. They include striped skunks, short-tailed shrews, a small variety of field birds, garter snakes, two kinds of toads, spiders and praying mantises.
Skippers of various kinds are lovely, interesting additions to rural roadside fauna. Watch for them if walking along country roads during August and September.
Skippers are intriguing and beautiful insects in several ways. They have a quick, darting flight pattern that attracts attention, even though most species of skippers have one and a half inch wing spans or less. When perched, their front two wings are swept-back and held upright at a 45 degree angle, while their back two wings are held flatly, making them resemble tiny jet fighter airplanes. When examined closely, one will notice that they have stout, furry bodies of attractive, camouflaging colors. And they have a large, dark eye on each side of the head that looks soulful, like the eyes of white-tailed deer and eastern bluebirds. Those intriguing, beautiful eyes are the skippers' most appealing feature.
Most of the 30 plus skipper species in open, sunny habitats in Pennsylvania look pretty much alike, showing their close ancestry to each other. Only slight differences distinguish skipper species, here and throughout much of the warmer parts of the world where they live.
The larvae of most skipper species are smooth-skinned, with camouflaging patterns on those colored skins. Some larvae, like those of silver-spotted skippers, have two light-orange dots on their maroon heads; spots that look like eyes!
The caterpillars of most skippers ingest grass and sedge that grow along rural roadsides in this area, and elsewhere across much of the United States. Those plants are why these small butterflies stay close to country road edges. Female skippers lay eggs on grass and sedge, the only foods of their youngsters. These skipper larvae don't cause damage because roadside grass is mowed occasionally. Silver-spotted skippers are the largest, darkest species of skipper in Lancaster County. They acquired that name because of the white blotch on each fore-wing that looks like a bit of white paint splattered on those wings.
Silver-spot caterpillars feed on bean plant foliage, including that of soybeans. I, however, have never seen damage in any soybean crop in this area because those skippers have not become overwhelmingly common.
Some skipper caterpillars of various species are eaten by a variety of adaptable, common creatures. They include striped skunks, short-tailed shrews, a small variety of field birds, garter snakes, two kinds of toads, spiders and praying mantises.
Skippers of various kinds are lovely, interesting additions to rural roadside fauna. Watch for them if walking along country roads during August and September.
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
Changing the Aerial Gaurd
Several evenings in August, while braving the annoying attentions of mosquitoes and listening to the lovely concerts of fiddling tree crickets and pulsing annual cicadas, I watch the intriguing and entertaining changing of the aerial guard in the sky over our suburban neighborhood in New Holland, Pennsylvania. Several each of post-breeding chimney swifts from town and local barn swallows and migrating tree swallows from surrounding farmland are interesting to watch catching flying insects to ingest before and during dusk. And, sometimes overlapping those birds, about eight little brown bats flutter swiftly out from their daytime roosts in neighborhood trees at dusk to catch and consume the same kinds of flying insects into the gathering darkness.
The swifts and swallows wing swiftly through the air, sweeping this way and that, without collision among their fellows, to catch flies, mosquitoes, gnats and other types of flying insects in their broad mouths. Their graceful flight is a joy to watch.
Though swifts and swallows are from different bird families, their similar life styles have molded them to look somewhat alike in shape and flight because of the aerial habitat they share to get food. However, with a little knowledge and practice, each kind of bird can be easily distinguished in flight.
After sunset, as the swifts and swallows quickly go to roost for the night, the little brown bats drop out of neighborhood trees and sweep quickly across the sky, beautifully silhouetted by the sunset, if there is one. Soon the airborne bats swoop and dive after elusive flying insects, creating an erratic mammal flight and wonderful entertainment that is spell-binding to see before the darkening sky.
I look forward to seeing the swifts, swallows, and, especially, the bats in flight at dusk over our neighborhood in August, amid the wonderful evening choruses of tree crickets and annual cicadas.
To me, the bats are little, furry friends that are a joy to visit for a bit each evening. They are attractive and familiar silhouetted against sunsets as they go about their business of eating pesky, flying insects.
The swifts and swallows wing swiftly through the air, sweeping this way and that, without collision among their fellows, to catch flies, mosquitoes, gnats and other types of flying insects in their broad mouths. Their graceful flight is a joy to watch.
Though swifts and swallows are from different bird families, their similar life styles have molded them to look somewhat alike in shape and flight because of the aerial habitat they share to get food. However, with a little knowledge and practice, each kind of bird can be easily distinguished in flight.
After sunset, as the swifts and swallows quickly go to roost for the night, the little brown bats drop out of neighborhood trees and sweep quickly across the sky, beautifully silhouetted by the sunset, if there is one. Soon the airborne bats swoop and dive after elusive flying insects, creating an erratic mammal flight and wonderful entertainment that is spell-binding to see before the darkening sky.
I look forward to seeing the swifts, swallows, and, especially, the bats in flight at dusk over our neighborhood in August, amid the wonderful evening choruses of tree crickets and annual cicadas.
To me, the bats are little, furry friends that are a joy to visit for a bit each evening. They are attractive and familiar silhouetted against sunsets as they go about their business of eating pesky, flying insects.
Friday, August 10, 2018
Farmland WildLife in August
Certain kinds of plants and animals are adapted to living in farmland in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, making that human-made habitat more interesting. Those living beings are more examples of nature's adjustments to human activities.
Driving through Lancaster County cropland early this August, I passed a field of mostly bare ground with rows of soybean plants newly emerging from the soil. I saw a half dozen killdeer plovers glide gracefully over the field on swept-back wings and abruptly land on the soybean field, immediately disappearing because of their camouflaging plumage on the bare ground. I stopped and counted about 50 killdeer on that field. Killdeer are inland shorebirds that generally live in open habitats such as gravel bars and mud flats that have little or no vegetation along lake shores. They naturally adapted to human-made, bare ground fields where few other inland bird species dwell. There killdeer consume many invertebrates they find on the soil.
While admiring and counting the killdeer, I saw several horned larks walking about among the soybean plants. Horned larks, being brown on top, are also adapted to and camouflaged on bare ground and sparsely vegetated land because they evolved on prairies and tundra with short or no vegetation. Horned larks consume invertebrates during warmer months and weed and grass seeds in cold months.
Killdeer and horned larks hatch young in bare-ground fields. Killdeer babies are fluffy when they hatch and ready to walk about and feed themselves about 24 hours after hatching. Lark chicks, however, are helpless when they hatch and must be fed by their parents until they fledge their tea-cup-sized nursery in the bare soil.
A pair of beautiful, wild rock pigeons were in that field eating weed and grass seeds still on the surface and bits of stone that grinds those seeds in their stomachs. Pigeons prefer habitats with short or no plants, where they can walk well on short legs. This familiar species evolved along the Mediterranean Sea where they still nest on cliffs and find seeds on beaches, mud flats and rocky ground below those cliffs. These mostly-gray birds, too, are well-adapted to bare-ground fields in farmland.
As I studied the killdeer, larks and pigeons on the nearly-bare ground, several each of barn swallows and purple martins, another kind of swallow, swirled low and swiftly over the killdeer field and neighboring fields after flying insects they catch in their broad mouths and swallow. Those two swallow species were mostly done raising young for this year and fattening up on insects prior to their flight south to escape the northern winter.
The adaptable barn swallows traditionally rear offspring on cliffs and in the mouths of caves, but now also on support beams in barns and under bridges. Small colonies of purple martins traditionally hatched young in big, dead, but still-standing trees riddled with cavities. And now they also have babies in apartment bird houses erected by farmers. Both species, however, need wide open spaces in which to swoop and glide after flying insects, which they get in cropland.
All these bird species, and more, are pre-adapted to open habitats, both natural and human-made. They increase their numbers by raising young in built habitats, as well as in natural ones. And we get to enjoy the beauties and intrigues of those birds, and other wildlife, on land we use for ourselves.
Driving through Lancaster County cropland early this August, I passed a field of mostly bare ground with rows of soybean plants newly emerging from the soil. I saw a half dozen killdeer plovers glide gracefully over the field on swept-back wings and abruptly land on the soybean field, immediately disappearing because of their camouflaging plumage on the bare ground. I stopped and counted about 50 killdeer on that field. Killdeer are inland shorebirds that generally live in open habitats such as gravel bars and mud flats that have little or no vegetation along lake shores. They naturally adapted to human-made, bare ground fields where few other inland bird species dwell. There killdeer consume many invertebrates they find on the soil.
While admiring and counting the killdeer, I saw several horned larks walking about among the soybean plants. Horned larks, being brown on top, are also adapted to and camouflaged on bare ground and sparsely vegetated land because they evolved on prairies and tundra with short or no vegetation. Horned larks consume invertebrates during warmer months and weed and grass seeds in cold months.
Killdeer and horned larks hatch young in bare-ground fields. Killdeer babies are fluffy when they hatch and ready to walk about and feed themselves about 24 hours after hatching. Lark chicks, however, are helpless when they hatch and must be fed by their parents until they fledge their tea-cup-sized nursery in the bare soil.
A pair of beautiful, wild rock pigeons were in that field eating weed and grass seeds still on the surface and bits of stone that grinds those seeds in their stomachs. Pigeons prefer habitats with short or no plants, where they can walk well on short legs. This familiar species evolved along the Mediterranean Sea where they still nest on cliffs and find seeds on beaches, mud flats and rocky ground below those cliffs. These mostly-gray birds, too, are well-adapted to bare-ground fields in farmland.
As I studied the killdeer, larks and pigeons on the nearly-bare ground, several each of barn swallows and purple martins, another kind of swallow, swirled low and swiftly over the killdeer field and neighboring fields after flying insects they catch in their broad mouths and swallow. Those two swallow species were mostly done raising young for this year and fattening up on insects prior to their flight south to escape the northern winter.
The adaptable barn swallows traditionally rear offspring on cliffs and in the mouths of caves, but now also on support beams in barns and under bridges. Small colonies of purple martins traditionally hatched young in big, dead, but still-standing trees riddled with cavities. And now they also have babies in apartment bird houses erected by farmers. Both species, however, need wide open spaces in which to swoop and glide after flying insects, which they get in cropland.
All these bird species, and more, are pre-adapted to open habitats, both natural and human-made. They increase their numbers by raising young in built habitats, as well as in natural ones. And we get to enjoy the beauties and intrigues of those birds, and other wildlife, on land we use for ourselves.
Monday, August 6, 2018
August's Beauties and Intrigues
Though generally warm, August in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania has several beauties and intrigues that make life outdoors more interesting. Daylight each succeeding day gets a couple minutes shorter and cold fronts are more frequent than they were earlier in summer.
Thousands of local, post-nesting barn swallows and purple martins, which are another kind of swallow, form flocks that swoop low and swiftly across fields after flying insects to eat. When full, they line up on roadside wires to rest, digest, preen their feathers and socialize. But when hungry again, off they go to capture more flying insects in their broad beaks. These swallow species also gather together to drift south to the Caribbean area and northern South America to find insects in abundance during the northern winter.
Meanwhile, scores and scores of post-breeding killdeer plovers, a type of inland shorebird, gather on recently mowed hay fields to consume a variety of invertebrates from the soil. They are hard to see on the fields because they are brown on top, which blends them into their human-made habitat.
A variety of southbound sandpipers that nested on the Arctic tundra or in Canada's forests, depending on the species, stop on mud flats along waterways and impoundments in Lancaster County, as elsewhere across much of the Lower 48 States. There they fatten up on aquatic invertebrates they pull from the mud and shallow water of those bodies of water before continuing their migrations farther south to find reliable food sources during the northern winter.
The small, brown least sandpipers that nested on the tundra and the grey, medium-sized lesser yellowleg sandpipers that raised young along lakes in Canadian forests are the two most common migrant sandpipers in Lancaster County in autumn. Least sandpipers are brown like the mud they forage on and yellowlegs are grey, which camouflages them better as they wade in shallow water after invertebrates in the water and the mud under it.
Several kinds of tall, flowering plants have lovely blossoms in wet meadows and along roadsides in August. Along country roads, the beautiful blue blooms of chickory and the white flowers of Queen-Anne's-lace seem to reflect partly cloudy skies, patched with cumulus clouds. Meanwhile, the brilliant-yellow goldenrod blossoms represent the sun in those same blue and white skies.
And in the low spots in pastures, ironweed has attractive, hot-pink blooms while ten-foot-tall Joe-pye weeds have clusters of dusty-pink blossoms. The flowers of both these plants attract lots of bees, butterflies and other types of insects that sip their sugary nectar. The orange, cornucopia-shaped blooms of spotted jewelweeds, however, draw ruby-throated hummingbirds that also sip their nectar. A few raptor species, including American kestrels, bald eagles, ospreys, broad-winged hawks and red-tailed hawks begin their southbound migrations in August. These birds, too, are going farther south to find ample prey animals for the winter. They generally follow mountain ridges southwest during north and northwest winds, but scatter anywhere and everywhere on other winds. The majestic ospreys and bald eagles also follow large waterways, such as the Susquehanna and Delaware Rivers, and "hop" from one large, inland impoundment to another. They catch fish along those bodies of water while they are migrating by them.
Obviously, these hawks and eagles get a head start on their migrations, but not in big numbers. The migrations of these birds continue through much of autumn, except for the broadies that are past this area by late September.
Several kinds of insects, particularly annual cicadas, a few kinds of tree crickets and true katydids, are abundant and obvious in August; noticeable mostly by sound. Several male cicadas in trees during warm days and evenings, especially in older suburban areas, simultaneously vibrate plates on their lower abdomens to produce choruses of pulsing, buzzy trills that entice females to them for mating before they all die.
At dusk each evening in August and September, male tree crickets begin chirping or trilling, according to their kind. They produce that wonderful fiddling by rubbing their wings or wings and legs together, again according to their species. The common and lovely snowy tree crickets are pale green, which camouflages them in bushes. And they chirp rapidly in warm temperatures and slower in cooler ones.
During August and September, the leaf-green, male true katydids rub their wings together to produce a chant that sounds like "Katy-did" and "Katy-didn't" in the treetops of woods and older suburbs. Whether Katy did or not, those seemingly unending arguments, stridulations bring the genders together to mate before dying.
August beauties, as in all months of each year, remind me of a being far, far greater than ourselves. I praise the Creator of the universe.
Thousands of local, post-nesting barn swallows and purple martins, which are another kind of swallow, form flocks that swoop low and swiftly across fields after flying insects to eat. When full, they line up on roadside wires to rest, digest, preen their feathers and socialize. But when hungry again, off they go to capture more flying insects in their broad beaks. These swallow species also gather together to drift south to the Caribbean area and northern South America to find insects in abundance during the northern winter.
Meanwhile, scores and scores of post-breeding killdeer plovers, a type of inland shorebird, gather on recently mowed hay fields to consume a variety of invertebrates from the soil. They are hard to see on the fields because they are brown on top, which blends them into their human-made habitat.
A variety of southbound sandpipers that nested on the Arctic tundra or in Canada's forests, depending on the species, stop on mud flats along waterways and impoundments in Lancaster County, as elsewhere across much of the Lower 48 States. There they fatten up on aquatic invertebrates they pull from the mud and shallow water of those bodies of water before continuing their migrations farther south to find reliable food sources during the northern winter.
The small, brown least sandpipers that nested on the tundra and the grey, medium-sized lesser yellowleg sandpipers that raised young along lakes in Canadian forests are the two most common migrant sandpipers in Lancaster County in autumn. Least sandpipers are brown like the mud they forage on and yellowlegs are grey, which camouflages them better as they wade in shallow water after invertebrates in the water and the mud under it.
Several kinds of tall, flowering plants have lovely blossoms in wet meadows and along roadsides in August. Along country roads, the beautiful blue blooms of chickory and the white flowers of Queen-Anne's-lace seem to reflect partly cloudy skies, patched with cumulus clouds. Meanwhile, the brilliant-yellow goldenrod blossoms represent the sun in those same blue and white skies.
And in the low spots in pastures, ironweed has attractive, hot-pink blooms while ten-foot-tall Joe-pye weeds have clusters of dusty-pink blossoms. The flowers of both these plants attract lots of bees, butterflies and other types of insects that sip their sugary nectar. The orange, cornucopia-shaped blooms of spotted jewelweeds, however, draw ruby-throated hummingbirds that also sip their nectar. A few raptor species, including American kestrels, bald eagles, ospreys, broad-winged hawks and red-tailed hawks begin their southbound migrations in August. These birds, too, are going farther south to find ample prey animals for the winter. They generally follow mountain ridges southwest during north and northwest winds, but scatter anywhere and everywhere on other winds. The majestic ospreys and bald eagles also follow large waterways, such as the Susquehanna and Delaware Rivers, and "hop" from one large, inland impoundment to another. They catch fish along those bodies of water while they are migrating by them.
Obviously, these hawks and eagles get a head start on their migrations, but not in big numbers. The migrations of these birds continue through much of autumn, except for the broadies that are past this area by late September.
Several kinds of insects, particularly annual cicadas, a few kinds of tree crickets and true katydids, are abundant and obvious in August; noticeable mostly by sound. Several male cicadas in trees during warm days and evenings, especially in older suburban areas, simultaneously vibrate plates on their lower abdomens to produce choruses of pulsing, buzzy trills that entice females to them for mating before they all die.
At dusk each evening in August and September, male tree crickets begin chirping or trilling, according to their kind. They produce that wonderful fiddling by rubbing their wings or wings and legs together, again according to their species. The common and lovely snowy tree crickets are pale green, which camouflages them in bushes. And they chirp rapidly in warm temperatures and slower in cooler ones.
During August and September, the leaf-green, male true katydids rub their wings together to produce a chant that sounds like "Katy-did" and "Katy-didn't" in the treetops of woods and older suburbs. Whether Katy did or not, those seemingly unending arguments, stridulations bring the genders together to mate before dying.
August beauties, as in all months of each year, remind me of a being far, far greater than ourselves. I praise the Creator of the universe.
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