UPLAND SANDPIPERS

     One afternoon in the middle of August, several years ago, I saw a flock of about twelve birds fly swiftly across the country road I was driving on in southern Lebanon County, Pennsylvania.  Those birds flew low, and close to my car, allowing me a good, though quick, look at them.  They had pointed, swept-back wings and were a bit larger than American robins.  They were light-brown with darker streaking and had small heads and large, dark, appealing eyes.  I couldn't identify them, because they were new to me.  But looking in a field guide of birds in eastern North America, I learned they were upland sandpipers, an inland kind of shorebird that nests on prairies and other tall-grass habitats during spring and summer, mostly in northcentral North America.  I realized, too, that those uplanders must have raised young in the surrounding 70 plus acres of tall grass along the country road I was on.  And, in August, gathered in preparation for their migration to Argentine grasslands to continue consuming invertebrates, and escape the northern winter.
     Upland sandpipers arrive in the remaining prairies and other grasslands of the Lower United States, Canada and Alaska by the third week in April.  Their nesting habitats in the mid-west were larger before that part of the continent was cultivated.  This sandpiper species also reared offspring in the eastern United States when that region was cleared of forests for farming, including in southern Lebanon County.    
     About ten pairs of uplanders arrived on the 70 plus acres of tall grass used to raise beef cattle to hatch four young per pair.  Early in May, for at least a few years, I visited those acres to hear and see those inland sandpipers courting.  Males climbed high in the sky until they were mere specks, then each one uttered drawn-out whistles that rose in pitch, then descended like long "wolf" whistles of an impudent, teenage boy.  Then those little, dark spots floating high on the wind, plummeted to the ground, leveled out on quivering, shallow-beating wings and landed on fence posts as male upland sandpipers.  Each bird then raised and lowered its wings gracefully and chattered a few series of rapid notes, as if getting in one more claim of its breeding territory.  A few male uplanders courting at once was always exciting to experience from those fields of tall grass where male eastern meadowlarks and red-winged blackbirds also once sang.  
     Each female upland sandpiper, like females in the rest of her family of shorebirds, lays one brood of four eggs each spring.  Female uplanders lay and brood theirs in grass nurseries under tall grass.  The young hatch fuzzy, camouflaged, open-eyed and ready to seek their own invertebrate food among the dense jungles of tall grasses.  Some uplander eggs are preyed on by skunks and raccoons.  And red foxes and long-tailed weasels eat some of the young, particularly before they can fly.  But some uplander chicks grow to full size and can fly within several weeks.
     Unfortunately for the upland sandpipers in that area of southern Lebanon County that I have visited annually, the grassland farm was sold and the new owner plants corn and soybeans.  The sandpipers were out of luck for nesting grounds there.  Loss of nesting habitat is the most serious problem uplanders face.     
     However, upland sandpipers still raise offspring in parts of the American and Canadian prairies and tall-grass meadows, habitats they need to hatch youngsters.  There the long, haunting whistles and rapid chatters of male uplanders are still heard drifting down to waves of wind-blown, tall grass.
     The wild, unique whistles of upland sandpipers high in the sky are exciting to hear.  And the lithe, handsome figures of those birds perched on fence posts are thrilling to see.  I sincerely hope these beautiful, charming birds can keep raising young each year among acres of wind-waving, tall grasses.    

SPRING ON THE PLATTE

     Rowe Sanctuary along the Platte River in southern Nebraska is beautiful and exciting to experience in March and April.  The Platte reflects the beauties of the sky as it flows broadly and shallowly on the flat landscape of the Nebraskan prairie.  And the river is flanked on both sides by tall, beige grass and weeds, which, in turn, are bordered by cottonwoods and other kinds of gray, deciduous trees, creating lovely scenery.  I've seen that beautiful scenery, and intriguing wildlife, through a live camera along the Platte and our computer screen in the spring of 2020.  
     Certain kinds of water-loving birds live on and along the Platte through parts of some winters and into early spring.  Flocks of Canada geese, mallard ducks and northern pintail ducks float on the protective waters of that river and feed on corn kernels in neighboring harvested corn fields.  The geese and ducks are striking when they fly up from the Platte, flock after flock, and are darkly silhouetted before brilliant sunsets as they fly to fields to feed.  
     Interestingly, too, pintails engage in courtships on the Platte.  For example, four or five drake pintails surround a hen on the water to show off their charms.  The hen leaps into the air and flies off with "break-neck" speed, with the drakes close behind her.  Careening and swerving over the water, the drakes do their best to keep up with her.  But the male who stays with the hen the longest gets to be her mate for the coming breeding season in the American and Canadian prairie pothole country in the mid-west of both countries.    
     Common merganser ducks are also on the Platte in winter.  They dive under water from the surface to catch and consume small fish.
     Several each of majestic bald eagles and adaptable ring-billed gulls winter along the Platte.  Both species scavenge dead fish and catch live ones when the river is not frozen over.  The eagles also catch ducks and other creatures at times.      
     But six hundred thousand, migrant sandhill cranes are the stars of the Platte in much of March and April.  Having come up from wintering in Texas, Arizona and New Mexico, they arrive at Rowe Sanctuary and the Platte early in March and stay there until about the middle of April.  Then they are off to nesting grounds around the Great Lakes, and on the prairies of Canada, Alaska and Siberia.   
     Over three feet tall, with long legs, neck and beak, each crane is magnificent.  And their great hordes along the Platte in spring are one of the great wonders of nature in North America.
     Each morning, great gatherings of sandhills fly out to fairly-nearby, harvested corn fields to feed on kernels of corn on the ground.  But they return to Rowe Sanctuary and the Platte River each evening in much of March and April.  Through the live camera at sunset, I saw many long lines and bunches of sandhill cranes coming to the river from far-off over the prairie where they fed all day.  And I saw their nighttime environment of the "big sky", and the shallow channels that reflect the sky, mud flats, sand bars and shorelines of the Platte where they will spend several spring nights.
     Within a few minutes, those first flocks of cranes sweep low over the Platte, as more and more bunches of them come up from behind from every direction.  Those first flocks to arrive over the river join each other into bigger and bigger hordes of cranes that call incessantly.  Those large flocks, silhouetted darkly against the sky, swirl round and round over the river, usually in a counter-clockwise direction.  Soon several cranes parachute down to shallow channels and mud flats here and there to spend the night.
     Then, as the whirling clouds of cranes flew over their relatives on the river's shallows and flats, many more cranes swept down to join them.  Soon flocks of cranes descended to the river at once, looking like a waterfall of large, wing-stretched birds.  Meanwhile, rivers of cranes swirled toward the "falls", each group waiting its turn to flow down it to the water.  And, meanwhile, more and more and more flocks of sandhills were coming to the river from all directions and varying distances.  They present amazing sights as the evenings press on and darken!
     The first few sandhills that land on shallows and flats for the night create "islands" of themselves.  And as other cranes join those on the river by the score every second, those islands quickly become longer and wider.  Still more cranes come from the distance as those crane islands become ever larger and larger with the big, silhouetted birds landing in one or another of up to about eight crane islands on the Platte River.      
     Still more and more cranes, silhouetted black against the darkening sky, continued to stream across the sky, swept low to the Platte and landed among islands of their fellows for the night.  There seemed to be no end to the rivers of cranes coming to the Platte.  Each evening, the sky gets darker and darker, and still the sandhills came, calling all the while.  And the crane islands get larger and larger.     
     Six hundred thousand sandhill cranes silhouetted black before the sky and on the Platte is exciting to experience.  But sometime in April, depending on the weather, those cranes head farther north to raise one or two chicks per pair. 

FLOWERS AT EVERY LEVEL

     Four kinds of plants commonly and obviously bloom in wooded floodplains along creeks here in southeastern Pennsylvania during April, including lesser celandines, garlic mustards, spicebushes and ash-leafed maple trees.  These plants cover riparian woods niches from the dead-leaf-carpeted floor to the tree canopies. 
     Lesser celandines are aliens from Europe.  They are abundant and invasive on riparian woods floors, forming large, prostrate carpets of glossy, deep-green leaves, dotted profusely with golden flowers that brighten those damp woodland floors, especially on sunny days.  Some extensive stretches of floodplains along creeks are yellow with innumerable, beautiful celandine blossoms.
     Here and there the deep-purple blooms of native blue violets and feral grape hyacinths poke through the golden and green coverings of lesser celandines.  The purple and yellow together offer a beautiful color combination on those rich, moist riparian woodland floors.
     Garlic mustard is another alien from Europe.  This species is so-named because its crushed leaves and stems have the scent of garlic.  Quite invasive, this plant dominates many damp woodland floors, including riparian woods.  But this plant grows up to three feet tall, has yellow-green foliage, and small, white flowers clustered at the tips of its stems in April.  This plant spreads quickly from its small, dark seeds that are blown around on the wind. 
     Many people pull this plant out of the soil to eradicate it, but I think it is a losing battle.  This vigorous species probably squeezes out some native plants on woodland floors, but to me garlic mustard also represents adaptable, indominatable life in spite of what we humans want.  
     Spicebushes are a native shrub layer species that has many positive traits.  Each bush has many tiny, greenish-yellow blooms that color whole woodland understories in April.  Spicebushes have red berries in September, most of which are eaten by American robins, cedar waxwings and other kinds of berry-eating birds during that beautiful month and into striking October.
     Spicebushes have a delightfully spicy scent in their leaves, berries, bark and twigs when those parts are slightly injured.  Some people enjoy walking in the woods and scraping spicebush bark or crushing leaves to experience that sweet fragrance.
      Native ash-leafed maple trees, along with silver maple and sycamore trees, dominate the canopies of riparian floodplains along creeks.  Ash-leafed maples' green, young twigs and numerous "silky-tassled" and drooping flowers dangling from twigs during April help identify this kind of riparian woodland tree. 
     Ash-leafs are weak trees that break down easily in strong wind.  Therefore, the larger trees of this kind are riddled with hollows where woodpeckers chipped out nurseries or wind ripped limbs off the trees, exposing the wood to agents of decay.  Raccoons, barred owls, wood ducks, tufted titmice and other types of wildlife live and raise young in those cavities, adding more interest to riparian woods along creeks.
     Local riparian woods on floodplains have lovely flowers at every level in April.  Those blooms help beautify the woods bordering both sides of waterways every year at that time.  Get out and experience a floodplain woods near you, or any other natural, nearby habitat for physical and mental health.    

April Purples

     Four kinds of flowering plants, including periwinkles or myrtles, common blue violets, grape hyacinths and ground ivy or gill-over-the-ground, have adapted to lawns in southeastern Pennsylvania, and elsewhere in the United States.  We have all these plants on our lawn.  And these plants have at least two characteristics in common in this part of Pennsylvania- they have pretty purple blooms in April.
     Some of those plants grow and blossom in beautiful, mixed bouquets of themselves, and with other wild blooms on lawns.  The other blossoms include yellow ones on dandelions and Indian strawberries, the pale-blue flowers of veronicas and the pink blossoms of spring beauties, for example.         
     Periwinkles begin to bloom in March, when warming weather permits.  Originally from Central and southern Europe, this species was planted on lawns as a lovely ground cover in flower gardens around rocks, on steep slopes and other places where mowing would be difficult.
     Periwinkle has deep-green, evergreen leaves on ground-trailing vines that spread across flower beds and lawns.  There they help hold down soil and provide shelter for invertebrates and other small creatures, including mice, toads and small snakes.  And American robins, gray catbirds and other kinds of birds find invertebrates to eat under myrtle vines.
     Each lovely myrtle flower has five purple petals that come together at their bases to form a shallow tube.  Several blooms together on their trailing vines make pretty bouquets in themselves.
     A favorite of many people, including me, common blue violets are native to northeastern North America's woodland floors.  I like violets so much that I avoid mowing them when they are in bloom. And this plant is so common on certain lawns that they turn parts of them purple during the latter part of April.
     Each violet blossom peeks out coyly from a sea of their own heart-shaped, dark-green leaves, and short grass on lawns.  And violets' leaves and blooms are eaten by cottontail rabbits and wood chucks that live under shrubbery and backyard sheds on lawns.
     Grape hyacinths are from Eurasia, but have been introduced to North America by people planting their bulbs in flower beds and on lawns.  Each grape hyacinth has several grass-like leaves and clusters of tiny, round, purple blooms that resemble bunches of grapes. 
     Each blossom has an opening on the bottom where its mature seeds fall out.  Those tiny seeds blow around in the wind, which scatters them across grassy lawns, meadows and roadsides.  I've seen parts of green lawns and pastures magically turn purple from multitudes of beautiful grape hyacinth flowers in April.  Such a lovely sight they make in the green background drenched with sunlight.
     Ground ivy is originally from Europe.  It is a small, prostrate vine, with scalloped leaves and lovely, purple flowers, crawling through the short grass of lawns.  This species, a kind of mint with a pungent scent when injured, grows attractive clumps of itself here and there on lawns.  Its presence can be detected by smell when one mows a lawn where ground ivy lives.  And ground ivy is visited by at least a few kinds of small insects that sip nectar from its blossoms, pollinating those blooms in the interesting process.
     These purple, wild flowers beautify lawns, pastures and roadsides with their attractive blooms in April.  And they benefit some kinds of wildlife on those human-made habitats.  Nature's beauties are almost everywhere on Earth.  And every moment of every day, there is something new in nature to experience.  Nature is always dynamic.   
       

   

Two Trees' Double Beauties

     Though unrelated, red maple trees and Bradford pear trees beautify many lawns and streets with their lovely flowers in spring and striking colored leaves in autumn.  Both these kinds of deciduous trees are commonly planted in those human-made habitats in the northeastern United States because of their many beauties, including shapes, summer foliage, spring blossoms and fall leaves.
     The native red maples are well-named, and attractive the year around.  They have innumerable red blooms from about mid-March to almost the middle of April and red seeds that helicopter away from the trees in late May.  Some of those seeds are eaten by rodents.  Red maple trees also have red petioles on their leaves in summer, red foliage in fall and red leaf and flower buds through winter.  But red maples are most striking with their beautiful red blossoms in spring and breath-taking red foliage in autumn, giving us double beauty each year and reasons they are planted on lawns.
     Red maples are native to and abundant in wooded swamps and the moist soil of bottomland woods.  In spring the many red flowers of these lovely trees color their canopies red, while spring peeper frogs and American toads peep and trill in ponds and pools below them.
     The alien Bradford pears have multitudes of white blossoms during late March and much of April.  Those blooms are often swarmed by pollinating insects that sip nectar and transfer pollen from flower to flower.  Each fertilized flower produces a brown, berry-like fruit, many of which are ingested in fall and winter by rodents and berry-eating birds, including starlings, American robins and cedar waxwings. 
     The birds digest the fruits' pulp, but pass the seeds in their droppings all over the countryside, the method, by which Bradford pears escape cultivation.  Some of those seeds sprout and, in some places, their saplings form pure  thickets of themselves, which produce more fruits that feed rodents and birds.   
     In November, Bradford pears have breath-taking maroon and red foliage, including on lawns where they were planted, and in abandoned fields and along expressways, places where birds perched and pooped.  And where the land isn't plowed, cultivated or mowed, allowing the growth of the trees to beautiful maturity in the "wild".
     I've seen  a few pure, dense thickets of Bradford pear trees in abandoned fields in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.  Those stands are beautifully white with flowers in April, and regally maroon, with some red foliage, in November. 
     Red maple trees and Bradford pear trees are attractive to us and beneficial to several kinds of wildlife.  And the pretty pear trees are gradually becoming part of the landscape in this area.