Late this morning, as I was driving home through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland after a couple of errands, I crossed a clear stream and noticed a muskrat swimming in it. I stopped the car by that waterway and watched the muskrat exit the water and walk up a streambank to a meadow of short grass. There it pulled up grass with its teeth, then waddled back down to the stream with a wad of short grass in its mouth and swam upstream for several yards. Then that rodent with a beautiful fur coat dove under water and swam into a hole in the streambank at the water level. The muskrat made a few more trips of that nature while I watched. Perhaps it was a pregnant female making a nest in her den for her future babies.
The stream the muskrat lives in flows through a short-grass cow pasture, studded with large willow and silver maple trees. The day has been cold and windy, but clear with ample sunshine.
As I waited for the muskrat to show herself, and while watching her, I saw a small variety of wintering birds around that waterway. A pair of eastern bluebirds were flitting among twigs in one of the willows, while a small group of American goldfinches fed on weed seeds on a south-facing streambank along the waterway. Meanwhile, a little group of American pipits walked about on the short grass meadow, back a few yards from the waterway, in their search for tiny invertebrates among the grass roots to eat. The bluebirds and goldfinches might be local birds, but the pipits are down from the Arctic tundra for the winter.
And while watching the muskrat, I was happy to notice a red-tailed hawk soaring majestically on high. That diurnal raptor probably was watching for mice, squirrels or any other creatures it could attempt to capture for a meal. And a bit later, from the same spot by the waterway, I was thrilled to see a magnificent adult bald eagle soaring low over the surrounding cropland, possibly in search of carrion to ingest. Sometimes, several bald eagles winter in Lancaster County farmland to feed on dead livestock deposited on the fields.
I also saw a great blue heron, about a hundred yards back the stream, wading in the water to catch fish. And I noted a male belted kingfisher flying from tree limb to tree limb along the waterway. Kingfishers, too, catch fish by diving into the water from a tree branch or hovering into the wind.
As I watched the muskrat and kingfisher along the stream, I thought about how these species live and raise young in burrows they dig themselves in streambanks. Muskrats excavate burrow entrances at the usual water level, then tunnel up to a living chamber just under the grassroots level. These rodents, therefore, exit their tunnels in relative safety underwater and their living sections are far above the water line so the owners don't drown during floods.
Muskrat burrows are generally safe from most predators, but mink, which are semi-aquatic weasels, get into some muskrat dens, kill and eat the resident or residents and use the 'rats' homes for themselves. Some female mink even raise young in muskrat burrows.
Kingfisher pairs dig burrows near the top of streambanks, tunneling straight back a few feet to a nesting chamber. Their each pair rears several offspring on fish and other aquatic critters they catch in waterways and impoundments.
Pairs of rough-winged swallows use some abandoned kingfisher holes to raise their own youngsters. They feed their offspring on a diet of insects they catch in mid-air.
Muskrats and kingfishers live and raise young in tunnels they dig into streambanks. Those burrows are relatively safe to the creatures that created and use them, species that demonstrate how most every niche on Earth is occupied by some form of life.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Wintering Brookside Birds
After a snowfall of a few inches to several inches on the ground in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland, as elsewhere, a few kinds of small, wintering birds go to flowing, tinkling brooks, rivulets and seepages in open, sunny cow pastures to find food. The clear, running water keeps the narrow edges of those tiny, tumbling waterways free of ice and snow, allowing those little birds access to aquatic invertebrates in the mud and shallows of those shorelines.
Wilson's snipe, killdeer plovers, American pipits and song sparrows are the unrelated species of little birds most likely to frequent the muddy borders of brooks, rivulets and seepages after a snowfall to acquire invertebrates to eat. All these birds are brown on top, which blends them into their winter habitats of bare ground and mud, making them difficult to spot, especially when they are still.
Wilson's snipe winter exclusively along those tiny waterways. They are a kind of inland sandpiper that uses its long beak to probe the mud under inch-deep water to capture invertebrates. And while these handsome, dark-streaked shorebirds poke their bills rapidly up and down in the mud, their whole bodies do a bobbing dance. That dance may be a kind of camouflage in that it resembles objects floating and bouncing in the current of the waterways this sandpiper frequents to feed.
Snipe rest between feeding forays among tufts of grass on the shores of the tiny waterways they winter along. There they find respite from cold winds and predators such as merlins and peregrines.
Little groups and singles of killdeer plovers and American pipits roam wind-swept, bare fields, or nearly so, in search of invertebrates to consume. But when snow piles on the fields, burying their food, these species quickly go to shallow waters in pastures to find invertebrates. But because they have short beaks, they get their food from the surfaces of ice-free mud and slow water, thus reducing competition with snipe for invertebrates.
The robin-sized killdeer are brown on top and white below, with two black bars across their chests. They trot short distances across bare ground, stopping here and there to pick up an edible tidbit. Pipits are sparrow-sized, with two white outer tail feathers that are visible when they fly. Pipits pump their tails up and down when they walk along, which, again, may be a form of camouflage along flowing water. Pipits, by the way, raise young on the wide open Arctic tundra.
Song sparrows are permanent resident birds wherever they are. They do not migrate. This gray-brown and dark-streaked species shelters in thickets of bushes and tall weeds and grasses where they also feed on seeds of those plants. And they shelter in thickets along little waterways. There they run and hop across the mud and in inch-deep water to catch and eat invertebrates, as do the above-mentioned birds, adding still more beauty and interest to those tiny waters in sunny meadows.
When the snow melts in the fields and their soil is exposed again, the killdeer and pipits go back to feeding on invertebrates in those fields, which to the birds must be an ever-expanding buffet. But the snipe and song sparrows stay along brooks, trickles and seepages to find invertebrates.
All four of these species of small birds made the percolating, crystalline waters in sunny meadows more interesting and enjoyable for awhile. And the birds got food. Beauty and interest are where you find them.
Wilson's snipe, killdeer plovers, American pipits and song sparrows are the unrelated species of little birds most likely to frequent the muddy borders of brooks, rivulets and seepages after a snowfall to acquire invertebrates to eat. All these birds are brown on top, which blends them into their winter habitats of bare ground and mud, making them difficult to spot, especially when they are still.
Wilson's snipe winter exclusively along those tiny waterways. They are a kind of inland sandpiper that uses its long beak to probe the mud under inch-deep water to capture invertebrates. And while these handsome, dark-streaked shorebirds poke their bills rapidly up and down in the mud, their whole bodies do a bobbing dance. That dance may be a kind of camouflage in that it resembles objects floating and bouncing in the current of the waterways this sandpiper frequents to feed.
Snipe rest between feeding forays among tufts of grass on the shores of the tiny waterways they winter along. There they find respite from cold winds and predators such as merlins and peregrines.
Little groups and singles of killdeer plovers and American pipits roam wind-swept, bare fields, or nearly so, in search of invertebrates to consume. But when snow piles on the fields, burying their food, these species quickly go to shallow waters in pastures to find invertebrates. But because they have short beaks, they get their food from the surfaces of ice-free mud and slow water, thus reducing competition with snipe for invertebrates.
The robin-sized killdeer are brown on top and white below, with two black bars across their chests. They trot short distances across bare ground, stopping here and there to pick up an edible tidbit. Pipits are sparrow-sized, with two white outer tail feathers that are visible when they fly. Pipits pump their tails up and down when they walk along, which, again, may be a form of camouflage along flowing water. Pipits, by the way, raise young on the wide open Arctic tundra.
Song sparrows are permanent resident birds wherever they are. They do not migrate. This gray-brown and dark-streaked species shelters in thickets of bushes and tall weeds and grasses where they also feed on seeds of those plants. And they shelter in thickets along little waterways. There they run and hop across the mud and in inch-deep water to catch and eat invertebrates, as do the above-mentioned birds, adding still more beauty and interest to those tiny waters in sunny meadows.
When the snow melts in the fields and their soil is exposed again, the killdeer and pipits go back to feeding on invertebrates in those fields, which to the birds must be an ever-expanding buffet. But the snipe and song sparrows stay along brooks, trickles and seepages to find invertebrates.
All four of these species of small birds made the percolating, crystalline waters in sunny meadows more interesting and enjoyable for awhile. And the birds got food. Beauty and interest are where you find them.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Small Tundra Birds Wintering on Cropland
The extensive cropland of eastern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania in winter is usually silent, except for the whining of the bitter wind in one's ears and the occasional raucous cawing of crows. And racing along with the wind, writhing sheets of snow hiss dryly over the fields and drift into ever-changing sculptures. Here and there green shoots of living winter rye and beige, dead corn stubble poke above the snow. But few trees and even less hedgerows break the continuity of the featureless shelterless fields.
The agricultural practices that scour Lancaster County farmland clean of tall vegetation, or any plants, must remind a few species of small, Arctic tundra birds, this far south in search of food sources for the winter, of the tundra they left behind. With a snow cover on it, that cropland must look particularly like the tundra to those migrant birds. And because these small, feathered ambassadors from the far north, including horned larks, Lapland longspurs and snow buntings are adapted to extensive, wide-open spaces, many of them winter on Lancaster County's human-made croplands, bringing a bit of the tundra with them.
These species of birds are camouflaged on wind-swept fields of bare ground or low vegetation, which make them virtually invisible to predatory hawks, and us, until those birds take flight. If we watch and wait in farmland that was harvested to the ground in autumn, we'll see groups of these little birds sweep up in quick, erratic flight, the larks lisping quietly and the snow buntings buzzing harshly and flashing large, white wing patches that make them resemble big snow flakes tossed about in the wind. Soon their wild, swift circling flight ends when the birds slide down into the wind and bound low to the ground on alternately beating and gliding wings. Abruptly they drop to the ground and immediately disappear among the snowdrifts and clods of soil exposed by the wind.
Each of these tundra species wintering here are either in pure flocks of their own or in mixed groups. Sometimes all four of the kinds of birds mentioned above are in the same flock, flying and feeding together. And all these species, except pipits, feed on weed and grass seeds and bits of corn lying in the fields. And all these species, except pipits, scratch through manure cast on top of the snow to get bits of chewed, but undigested, corn when seeds and corn kernels are buried in snow.
Horned larks are, by far, the most common of these small birds wintering on Lancaster County's extensive farmland. Many pairs of this kind nest on Lancaster County fields, which is risky for them because of the plowing and discing that can ruin clutches of eggs in their teacup-sized, soil nurseries dug by the birds themselves into the ground. The lark pairs keep trying from early spring into summer, until they get a brood fledged.
By autumn, many more horned larks come south, seeking food for the winter, thousands of which settle in Lancaster County. These migrants greatly bolster the numbers of their permanent resident relatives here.
Attractive birds in a plain way, horned larks are brown on top, which blends them into their surroundings. They have two black feather tufts on top of their heads, hence their name, and black bibs. But the rest of their face is yellow.
A few sparrow-like Lapland longspurs winter in flocks of horned larks, but not in groups of their own. This species is brown with streaking, has white outer tail feathers, and males each have a faded black bib.
Snow buntings are brown and white, which blends them into snowy fields. They sometimes mix with horned larks, but generally are in flocks of their own. However, buntings are not this far south every winter, but are here erratically.
These seemingly insignificant bird species add much interest and beauty to extensive, wind-swept fields in winter, a habitat they are well adapted to. But they are most easily seen after a snowfall when they are drawn to rural roads to eat tiny bits of stone that grind the seeds in their stomachs.
The agricultural practices that scour Lancaster County farmland clean of tall vegetation, or any plants, must remind a few species of small, Arctic tundra birds, this far south in search of food sources for the winter, of the tundra they left behind. With a snow cover on it, that cropland must look particularly like the tundra to those migrant birds. And because these small, feathered ambassadors from the far north, including horned larks, Lapland longspurs and snow buntings are adapted to extensive, wide-open spaces, many of them winter on Lancaster County's human-made croplands, bringing a bit of the tundra with them.
These species of birds are camouflaged on wind-swept fields of bare ground or low vegetation, which make them virtually invisible to predatory hawks, and us, until those birds take flight. If we watch and wait in farmland that was harvested to the ground in autumn, we'll see groups of these little birds sweep up in quick, erratic flight, the larks lisping quietly and the snow buntings buzzing harshly and flashing large, white wing patches that make them resemble big snow flakes tossed about in the wind. Soon their wild, swift circling flight ends when the birds slide down into the wind and bound low to the ground on alternately beating and gliding wings. Abruptly they drop to the ground and immediately disappear among the snowdrifts and clods of soil exposed by the wind.
Each of these tundra species wintering here are either in pure flocks of their own or in mixed groups. Sometimes all four of the kinds of birds mentioned above are in the same flock, flying and feeding together. And all these species, except pipits, feed on weed and grass seeds and bits of corn lying in the fields. And all these species, except pipits, scratch through manure cast on top of the snow to get bits of chewed, but undigested, corn when seeds and corn kernels are buried in snow.
Horned larks are, by far, the most common of these small birds wintering on Lancaster County's extensive farmland. Many pairs of this kind nest on Lancaster County fields, which is risky for them because of the plowing and discing that can ruin clutches of eggs in their teacup-sized, soil nurseries dug by the birds themselves into the ground. The lark pairs keep trying from early spring into summer, until they get a brood fledged.
By autumn, many more horned larks come south, seeking food for the winter, thousands of which settle in Lancaster County. These migrants greatly bolster the numbers of their permanent resident relatives here.
Attractive birds in a plain way, horned larks are brown on top, which blends them into their surroundings. They have two black feather tufts on top of their heads, hence their name, and black bibs. But the rest of their face is yellow.
A few sparrow-like Lapland longspurs winter in flocks of horned larks, but not in groups of their own. This species is brown with streaking, has white outer tail feathers, and males each have a faded black bib.
Snow buntings are brown and white, which blends them into snowy fields. They sometimes mix with horned larks, but generally are in flocks of their own. However, buntings are not this far south every winter, but are here erratically.
These seemingly insignificant bird species add much interest and beauty to extensive, wind-swept fields in winter, a habitat they are well adapted to. But they are most easily seen after a snowfall when they are drawn to rural roads to eat tiny bits of stone that grind the seeds in their stomachs.
Monday, December 18, 2017
Adaptable, Inland Ring-bills
The leisurely, direct and powerful flight of ring-billed gulls is poetry. Their graceful soaring on high on long, supple, swept-back wings is a natural masterpiece of elegance. Tipping this way and that on black-tipped wings to make mid-air turns, whirls of many ring-bills search for winds and thermals that will carry them higher and higher with perfect ease and grace. And adaptable as they are beautiful in flight, ring-bills are lovely, interesting additions to inland, human-made habitats, including land fills, blacktop parking lots, bare-ground fields and extensive lawns, where they get much of their food through each winter. Those gulls are pre-adapted to those built, open habitats because they evolved on coastal beaches, mud flats and salt marshes. And because of their adjustments to human-made environments and activities, they have increased their numbers greatly in recent years.
Hundreds of thousands of ring-billed gulls winter in the Middle Atlantic States because of the Delaware and Susquehanna Rivers, the upper Chesapeake Bay and several inland, human-made impoundments, including the Octoraro Lake, Struble Lake and Blue Marsh Lake, where they roost overnight on water, or ice, and mid-river boulders. And every winter morning, long, straggly lines, "V" formations and scattered bunches of ring-bills leave those waters and power gracefully across the sky to feeding areas, particularly landfills these days.
Blizzards of swirling white and pale-gray ring-bills settle on landfills in the Mid-Atlantic States to consume edible garbage, along with swarms of starlings, scores of vultures of two kinds and flocks of American crows. The gulls are so sure of their ability to take flight when necessary and used to the big trucks bringing in garbage, that they swarm in flight all around those huge vehicles as they dump garbage in the landfills.
The adaptable ring-billed gulls have other sources of food through each winter. They plunk down on blacktop parking lots to ingest French fries, bread crumbs and other edibles thrown out by careless humans. And they eat earthworms and other invertebrates off bare-ground fields, extensive lawns and country, blacktop roads, particularly after heavy or prolonged rains.
In November and March, when local soil is likely to be soft enough for plowing, many ring-bills associate that plowing with food and drop to the fields to ingest it. They land in furrows behind the forward-moving plow blades to grab and consume exposed earthworms and other invertebrates. Amid much flapping and calling, flocks of ring-bills form "pinwheels" of themselves as gulls in the back of the trenches fly forward, over their fellows in the furrows and drop into the ditches right behind the blades. Those bustling crowds of ring-bills, frantically competing for a limited food supply, make interesting, natural spectacles in our local fields.
Before impoundments freeze, ring-bills catch small fish from their surfaces. But when those still waters become glazed with ice, those gulls concentrate over turbulent waters that rushed down through turbines in hydroelectric dams on the Susquehanna to catch small fish that went through those turbines and welled up in the turbulence below each dam, either dead, injured or dazed, and easy pickings for the gulls. Great clouds of ring-bills swirl back and forth low over the agitated water, without collision with their feathered fellows, as each bird watches for vulnerable fish to grab in its beak and eat.
Some ring-billed gulls are pirates at times. They try to steal fish from common merganser ducks, pied-billed grebes and other diving, fish-eating birds that surface to swallow their catches.
Ring-bills, like many kinds of gulls, scavenge dead fish when that food is available on the water's surfaces and along shorelines. It's this looking for a variety of foods in a diversity of habitats that helps make ring-bills successful and abundant. Adapting is a key to success.
Ring-billed gulls are a large part of the Middle Atlantic States' wintering avifauna in open, human-made habitats because of the gulls' being preadapted to them. They are beautiful in flight, and highly successful in using built habitats, making them an abundant, intriguing species here in the Mid-Atlantic States.
Hundreds of thousands of ring-billed gulls winter in the Middle Atlantic States because of the Delaware and Susquehanna Rivers, the upper Chesapeake Bay and several inland, human-made impoundments, including the Octoraro Lake, Struble Lake and Blue Marsh Lake, where they roost overnight on water, or ice, and mid-river boulders. And every winter morning, long, straggly lines, "V" formations and scattered bunches of ring-bills leave those waters and power gracefully across the sky to feeding areas, particularly landfills these days.
Blizzards of swirling white and pale-gray ring-bills settle on landfills in the Mid-Atlantic States to consume edible garbage, along with swarms of starlings, scores of vultures of two kinds and flocks of American crows. The gulls are so sure of their ability to take flight when necessary and used to the big trucks bringing in garbage, that they swarm in flight all around those huge vehicles as they dump garbage in the landfills.
The adaptable ring-billed gulls have other sources of food through each winter. They plunk down on blacktop parking lots to ingest French fries, bread crumbs and other edibles thrown out by careless humans. And they eat earthworms and other invertebrates off bare-ground fields, extensive lawns and country, blacktop roads, particularly after heavy or prolonged rains.
In November and March, when local soil is likely to be soft enough for plowing, many ring-bills associate that plowing with food and drop to the fields to ingest it. They land in furrows behind the forward-moving plow blades to grab and consume exposed earthworms and other invertebrates. Amid much flapping and calling, flocks of ring-bills form "pinwheels" of themselves as gulls in the back of the trenches fly forward, over their fellows in the furrows and drop into the ditches right behind the blades. Those bustling crowds of ring-bills, frantically competing for a limited food supply, make interesting, natural spectacles in our local fields.
Before impoundments freeze, ring-bills catch small fish from their surfaces. But when those still waters become glazed with ice, those gulls concentrate over turbulent waters that rushed down through turbines in hydroelectric dams on the Susquehanna to catch small fish that went through those turbines and welled up in the turbulence below each dam, either dead, injured or dazed, and easy pickings for the gulls. Great clouds of ring-bills swirl back and forth low over the agitated water, without collision with their feathered fellows, as each bird watches for vulnerable fish to grab in its beak and eat.
Some ring-billed gulls are pirates at times. They try to steal fish from common merganser ducks, pied-billed grebes and other diving, fish-eating birds that surface to swallow their catches.
Ring-bills, like many kinds of gulls, scavenge dead fish when that food is available on the water's surfaces and along shorelines. It's this looking for a variety of foods in a diversity of habitats that helps make ring-bills successful and abundant. Adapting is a key to success.
Ring-billed gulls are a large part of the Middle Atlantic States' wintering avifauna in open, human-made habitats because of the gulls' being preadapted to them. They are beautiful in flight, and highly successful in using built habitats, making them an abundant, intriguing species here in the Mid-Atlantic States.
Friday, December 15, 2017
Two Beautiful Spruces
Red spruces and blue spruces are planted on lawns in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere, because they are attractive trees the year around. They both are forever green, which especially adds beauty to winter landscapes, including lawns, and have handsome, pyramidal shapes and lovely, rustic cones that hang from twigs and enhance their beauties.
Both these spruce species are native to North America. Red spruces evolved in northern New England and extreme southeastern Canada, the Adirondack Mountains and here and there in the Appalachian Mountains south to western North Carolina. Along with Fraser firs, red spruces are THEE coniferous trees on certain peaks of the Smoky Mountains, even forming almost pure stands of themselves here and there. Blue spruces are native to parts of the Rocky Mountain region.
Red spruces are not commonly planted on lawns, but are part of many suburban areas in southeastern Pennsylvania. They have small cones that help to identify this type of spruce. They are a fairly common, wild spruce in the Pocono Mountains in northeastern Pennsylvania. This species is shade tolerant when young, which helps it get established in the understories of bottomland forests where they are adapted.
Blue spruces are commonly planted on lawns because of the attractive silvery or pale-blue sheen on their young needles of the season. That is an unusual color among spruces in North America, which helps make this a popular species for planting. Older needles are green, which gives blue spruces a two-tone appearance through much of each year.
Blue spruce trees have other beauties as well. Young cones are bright red among the silvery-green needles of new growth, offering a lovely contrast of colors. And their mature, dead cones are light-beige, giving these evergreen trees more diversity of color.
Early in May in this area, the buds of new needles open on both species of conifers and the needles grow rapidly at the tip of every twig, offering yet another beauty to those evergreens.
When the cones of coniferous trees, both wild and planted, mature and die, the scales on each cone opens, which allows the winged seed under each scale the freedom to fall out of the cone and twirl away in the wind to the ground, usually some distance from the parent tree. Most seeds, however, are eaten by seed-eating, wintering birds, including two kinds of chickadees, two types of nuthatches, American goldfinches, pine siskins and other species. A variety of rodents, including mice and squirrels, eat a share of the seeds as well. Some birds and squirrels pick the seeds out of the cones while they are still attached to the trees. But mice, and many of the other species, eat conifer seeds off the ground where they came to rest.
Red spruces and blue spruces, like all spruces and firs, protect wildlife from cold winds and predators in winter and provide protective nurseries for certain kinds of birds to raise young in. Great horned owls perch in them by day throughout the year to rest. Red-tailed hawks, Cooper's hawks, mourning doves and American robins are some of the bird species that rest in them overnight through the year.
And all the bird species mentioned above, and others, raise young in these spruces and other kinds of conifers, in the wild and on lawns. Conifers are not only attractive to us, but benefit many kinds of wildlife as well.
Red spruces and blue spruces are planted on lawns for their many beauties. And those same conifers benefit certain kinds of adaptable birds and mammals as well. They provide wining situations on many lawns.
Both these spruce species are native to North America. Red spruces evolved in northern New England and extreme southeastern Canada, the Adirondack Mountains and here and there in the Appalachian Mountains south to western North Carolina. Along with Fraser firs, red spruces are THEE coniferous trees on certain peaks of the Smoky Mountains, even forming almost pure stands of themselves here and there. Blue spruces are native to parts of the Rocky Mountain region.
Red spruces are not commonly planted on lawns, but are part of many suburban areas in southeastern Pennsylvania. They have small cones that help to identify this type of spruce. They are a fairly common, wild spruce in the Pocono Mountains in northeastern Pennsylvania. This species is shade tolerant when young, which helps it get established in the understories of bottomland forests where they are adapted.
Blue spruces are commonly planted on lawns because of the attractive silvery or pale-blue sheen on their young needles of the season. That is an unusual color among spruces in North America, which helps make this a popular species for planting. Older needles are green, which gives blue spruces a two-tone appearance through much of each year.
Blue spruce trees have other beauties as well. Young cones are bright red among the silvery-green needles of new growth, offering a lovely contrast of colors. And their mature, dead cones are light-beige, giving these evergreen trees more diversity of color.
Early in May in this area, the buds of new needles open on both species of conifers and the needles grow rapidly at the tip of every twig, offering yet another beauty to those evergreens.
When the cones of coniferous trees, both wild and planted, mature and die, the scales on each cone opens, which allows the winged seed under each scale the freedom to fall out of the cone and twirl away in the wind to the ground, usually some distance from the parent tree. Most seeds, however, are eaten by seed-eating, wintering birds, including two kinds of chickadees, two types of nuthatches, American goldfinches, pine siskins and other species. A variety of rodents, including mice and squirrels, eat a share of the seeds as well. Some birds and squirrels pick the seeds out of the cones while they are still attached to the trees. But mice, and many of the other species, eat conifer seeds off the ground where they came to rest.
Red spruces and blue spruces, like all spruces and firs, protect wildlife from cold winds and predators in winter and provide protective nurseries for certain kinds of birds to raise young in. Great horned owls perch in them by day throughout the year to rest. Red-tailed hawks, Cooper's hawks, mourning doves and American robins are some of the bird species that rest in them overnight through the year.
And all the bird species mentioned above, and others, raise young in these spruces and other kinds of conifers, in the wild and on lawns. Conifers are not only attractive to us, but benefit many kinds of wildlife as well.
Red spruces and blue spruces are planted on lawns for their many beauties. And those same conifers benefit certain kinds of adaptable birds and mammals as well. They provide wining situations on many lawns.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Layers of Wintering Birds
While watching a few species of birds along the edge of a bottomland woodlot in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania for an hour one afternoon early in December, I thought about how different kinds of birds occupy a specific layer or more of woodland, though there is some overlap among the various bird species. The few types of birds I saw that afternoon were examples of various species using different levels of a deciduous woods.
A permanent resident song sparrow and a wintering winter wren were each along a stream at the edge of the woodland I was enjoying. Though these common species winter in different habitats, there was enough woods there to satisfy the wren and enough weedy edges to please the sparrow. Therefore, these two adaptable species were wintering in the same place, though it is unusual for these kinds of birds to live in the same environment.
However, the song sparrow and winter wren have traits in common. Both kinds are brown, which camouflages them in their common habitat of mud flats and gravel bars along small, flowing waterways. Both species feed on invertebrates through winter, though the sparrow also eats seeds. And the wren holes up for the night among tree roots at the waters' edge, while the sparrow nestles deeply in clumps of tall grasses and weeds.
I saw a resident male northern cardinal and a little, scattered group of wintering white-throated sparrows low in thickets of red-twigged dogwoods, spicebushes, burning bushes, and tall weeds and grasses in the south-facing, sunny edge of the woods near the waterway. These small birds were moving around and scratching up weed and grass seeds under the protective shrubbery. That cover will be handy if a hawk or cat stalks those busily feeding birds.
That afternoon, too, I saw a northern mockingbird, a few eastern bluebirds and a handful of cedar waxwings feeding on poison ivy berries on a vine halfway up a large tree. Devout berry eaters in winter, those little birds were attractive in the sunlight as they consumed those dirty-white berries. Probably full of berries, the mocker dove into a nearby shrub and stayed there to rest and digest in relative safety. And, within several minutes, the bluebirds and waxwings simply drifted away to safe places to rest and digest the berries they ingested.
A lone Carolina chickadee fluttered among buds, twigs and small limbs in the sapling layer of the woods as it looked for tiny invertebrates and their eggs in crevices. Chickadees, titmice and other kinds of small, woodland birds can be spotted in a few levels of a woods, but usually not in treetops in winter because they are vulnerable to cold wind.
I also noticed a northern flicker, which is a kind of woodpecker, and a red-bellied woodpecker in the treetops where they usually are. Both these handsome species were chipping with their sturdy beaks at loose bark and dead wood on limbs to dig out invertebrates living in those branches.
And I saw a turkey vulture and a pair of red-tailed hawks sailing over the treetops of that woodlot. The vulture was looking for carrion to eat while the red-tails were watching for gray squirrels to catch and ingest. These two kinds of soaring birds usually perch in the tops of trees when at rest.
To think of various kinds of birds occupying different layers of woodland is musing to some degree, but based a little on fact. Each species of life has its own niche, and each niche has its own level in a woods, lake or a lawn. Creatures living at different layers face reduced competition for food and shelter because each and every level in every environment is utilized.
A permanent resident song sparrow and a wintering winter wren were each along a stream at the edge of the woodland I was enjoying. Though these common species winter in different habitats, there was enough woods there to satisfy the wren and enough weedy edges to please the sparrow. Therefore, these two adaptable species were wintering in the same place, though it is unusual for these kinds of birds to live in the same environment.
However, the song sparrow and winter wren have traits in common. Both kinds are brown, which camouflages them in their common habitat of mud flats and gravel bars along small, flowing waterways. Both species feed on invertebrates through winter, though the sparrow also eats seeds. And the wren holes up for the night among tree roots at the waters' edge, while the sparrow nestles deeply in clumps of tall grasses and weeds.
I saw a resident male northern cardinal and a little, scattered group of wintering white-throated sparrows low in thickets of red-twigged dogwoods, spicebushes, burning bushes, and tall weeds and grasses in the south-facing, sunny edge of the woods near the waterway. These small birds were moving around and scratching up weed and grass seeds under the protective shrubbery. That cover will be handy if a hawk or cat stalks those busily feeding birds.
That afternoon, too, I saw a northern mockingbird, a few eastern bluebirds and a handful of cedar waxwings feeding on poison ivy berries on a vine halfway up a large tree. Devout berry eaters in winter, those little birds were attractive in the sunlight as they consumed those dirty-white berries. Probably full of berries, the mocker dove into a nearby shrub and stayed there to rest and digest in relative safety. And, within several minutes, the bluebirds and waxwings simply drifted away to safe places to rest and digest the berries they ingested.
A lone Carolina chickadee fluttered among buds, twigs and small limbs in the sapling layer of the woods as it looked for tiny invertebrates and their eggs in crevices. Chickadees, titmice and other kinds of small, woodland birds can be spotted in a few levels of a woods, but usually not in treetops in winter because they are vulnerable to cold wind.
I also noticed a northern flicker, which is a kind of woodpecker, and a red-bellied woodpecker in the treetops where they usually are. Both these handsome species were chipping with their sturdy beaks at loose bark and dead wood on limbs to dig out invertebrates living in those branches.
And I saw a turkey vulture and a pair of red-tailed hawks sailing over the treetops of that woodlot. The vulture was looking for carrion to eat while the red-tails were watching for gray squirrels to catch and ingest. These two kinds of soaring birds usually perch in the tops of trees when at rest.
To think of various kinds of birds occupying different layers of woodland is musing to some degree, but based a little on fact. Each species of life has its own niche, and each niche has its own level in a woods, lake or a lawn. Creatures living at different layers face reduced competition for food and shelter because each and every level in every environment is utilized.
Saturday, December 9, 2017
Enjoying Water Birds
Driving by a six-acre, human-made impoundment near Morgantown, Pennsylvania on December 8, 2017, I thought to stop and check the lake for water birds. I stopped at that lake three days ago and saw one stately great blue heron stalking fish in the shallows near a shoreline. But wintering birds shift around a lot and I wanted to see if any birds were on the lake on December 8, as they have at times in winters past.
About 20 handsome Canada geese floated and rested in the middle of the impoundment. A ten-foot wall of beige and seed-plumed phragmites along one shoreline offered an appropriate and impressive backdrop to the lake and the geese on it.
Scanning the impoundment with binoculars, I saw up to 20 ring-necked ducks, mostly the elegant drakes, sitting on the water's surface near the geese. Those ring-necks were hard to count because of their constant diving for food and re-surfacing, but interesting to watch diving under water from the surface to get aquatic vegetation off the lake's bottom to ingest. Perhaps the suddenly colder weather pushed these bay ducks into moving farther south. Or, maybe, they were merely somewhere else in the local area.
Three pied-billed grebes floated on the water near to the ring-necks and geese. All three of them also dove occasionally under water from the surface to snare small fish in their beaks as they swam under water. They came to the surface to swallow their victims. Pied-bills have been on this lake every winter for at least the last few years. These grebes might be the same ones that have been here before.
A couple dozen pretty, over-wintering mallard ducks swam among and in front of the wall of emergent phragmites along the back shore. Many mallards tipped-up, with their tails pointing toward the sky, to use their broad bills to shovel water plants, some of their food sources, off the bottom of the shallows. A pair of striking black ducks, a pair of pretty wood ducks and a half-dozen attractive gadwall ducks swam among the mallards and fed much like them.
As I watched the ring-necks, and the mallards and their puddle duck associates, another eight gadwalls swooped in for a landing on the water near their relatives already on the impoundment. Those gadwalls in flight were striking to see. They were streamlined, dark against the gray sky and had a white square on each wing that was extended in flight. Those highly visible, white patches might hold the gadwalls together in a flock when in flight.
Seeing the mallards and their associates and the ring-necks on the lake reminded me that mallards are the most common puddle duck in southeastern Pennsylvania and ring-necks are the most common bay ducks inland. The presence of those two species on that pond was more appropriate to me than exciting.
Two majestic great blue herons slowly stalked fish in the shallows along the edges of the impoundment, one of them in and out of a stand of cattails growing out of the water. Those herons offered another element of beauty and interest to the imopoundment.
And there was a half dozen ring-billed gulls sitting on an edge of the lake. They offered a bit of the ocean and estuary shore to that inland environment. Other times in the past, a lot of gulls had rested on that impoundment between feeding forays in nearby fields and land fills.
I was happy to watch that human-made impoundment for an hour. Though I didn't see any outstanding birds or other creatures, I had a joyful, inspiring time along its shores. We all can have peace and joy just by being immersed in nature, most anywhere, most anytime.
About 20 handsome Canada geese floated and rested in the middle of the impoundment. A ten-foot wall of beige and seed-plumed phragmites along one shoreline offered an appropriate and impressive backdrop to the lake and the geese on it.
Scanning the impoundment with binoculars, I saw up to 20 ring-necked ducks, mostly the elegant drakes, sitting on the water's surface near the geese. Those ring-necks were hard to count because of their constant diving for food and re-surfacing, but interesting to watch diving under water from the surface to get aquatic vegetation off the lake's bottom to ingest. Perhaps the suddenly colder weather pushed these bay ducks into moving farther south. Or, maybe, they were merely somewhere else in the local area.
Three pied-billed grebes floated on the water near to the ring-necks and geese. All three of them also dove occasionally under water from the surface to snare small fish in their beaks as they swam under water. They came to the surface to swallow their victims. Pied-bills have been on this lake every winter for at least the last few years. These grebes might be the same ones that have been here before.
A couple dozen pretty, over-wintering mallard ducks swam among and in front of the wall of emergent phragmites along the back shore. Many mallards tipped-up, with their tails pointing toward the sky, to use their broad bills to shovel water plants, some of their food sources, off the bottom of the shallows. A pair of striking black ducks, a pair of pretty wood ducks and a half-dozen attractive gadwall ducks swam among the mallards and fed much like them.
As I watched the ring-necks, and the mallards and their puddle duck associates, another eight gadwalls swooped in for a landing on the water near their relatives already on the impoundment. Those gadwalls in flight were striking to see. They were streamlined, dark against the gray sky and had a white square on each wing that was extended in flight. Those highly visible, white patches might hold the gadwalls together in a flock when in flight.
Seeing the mallards and their associates and the ring-necks on the lake reminded me that mallards are the most common puddle duck in southeastern Pennsylvania and ring-necks are the most common bay ducks inland. The presence of those two species on that pond was more appropriate to me than exciting.
Two majestic great blue herons slowly stalked fish in the shallows along the edges of the impoundment, one of them in and out of a stand of cattails growing out of the water. Those herons offered another element of beauty and interest to the imopoundment.
And there was a half dozen ring-billed gulls sitting on an edge of the lake. They offered a bit of the ocean and estuary shore to that inland environment. Other times in the past, a lot of gulls had rested on that impoundment between feeding forays in nearby fields and land fills.
I was happy to watch that human-made impoundment for an hour. Though I didn't see any outstanding birds or other creatures, I had a joyful, inspiring time along its shores. We all can have peace and joy just by being immersed in nature, most anywhere, most anytime.
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