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.
Monday, October 29, 2018
Wednesday, October 24, 2018
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.
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.
Thursday, October 18, 2018
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.
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.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, October 8, 2018
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
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.
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.
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