Posts Tagged ‘nature’

Happy Birthday John James Audubon!

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Thursday, April 26th, 2012

To celebrate John James Audubon’s 227th Birthday download Audubon Birds for only $0.99! Currently available on iOS and Google Play.

Bluebirds © John James Audubon

Today birders and naturalists around the world are celebrating the 227th birthday of John James Audubon, the French-American naturalist and artist.

An iconic figure in ornithology, Audubon revolutionized the practice of field identification, created fantastical yet realistic works of art, and worked hard to follow his passion of illustrating birds. Indeed, his name is emblazoned across the top of this page – now the figurehead of an organization synonymous with birds and conservation.

California Quail © John James Audubon

Here are some brief – and perhaps less-known – facts about Audubon:
1. Audubon was born in Haiti, raised in France, and moved to Pennsylvania at age 18 to avoid conscription to Napolean’s army.
2. After moving from southeastern Pennsylvania to Kentucky (with his wife Lucy), Audubon was briefly thrown in jail due to bankruptcy from a failed business venture.
3. Besides the familiar collection of his paintings, Birds of North America, Audubon released Ornithological Biographies (life histories of various bird species) and Viviparous Quadrupeds of North America (a compilation of illustrations and text, started by Audubon and completed by his sons after his death).

His paintings, though, are what define him for modern birders. The birds’ unique poses – that attempted to bring some life and nobility to the dead specimens he often used as guides – invoke the extraordinary from the common.

Brown Pelican © John James Audubon

It is interesting to reflect back on the days before high-quality optics were widely available for the study of birds. It was acceptable- actually the norm back then- to go out and “collect” specimens, a euphemism for killing birds to study. Studying these lifeless forms formed the basis for his artwork, and it is actually quite amazing that he was able to incorporate such life and action into his paintings. I can only imagine what his artwork would have looked like if he had been able study live birds in equal detail. Would his paintings have become as iconic?

So let’s celebrate the artist, his legacy, and the organization that bears his name. Happy 227th birthday to John James Audubon!

Squirrel on Fire

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Monday, April 23rd, 2012

Eastern Gray Squirrel in Mangrove by Jungle Pete

When I bought my house a few years ago, a realtor advised me that the location I was interested in was undesirable because it was overwhelmed with “vegetative fuel”. That’s a fancy euphemism for “trees” in the business. I found another realtor and bought a house surrounded by beautiful Slash Pines, Live Oaks and Saw Palmettos.

Slash Pine needles © Kent McFarland

Over the last few weeks my town has been plagued by wildfires. With an exceptionally long dry season and little rain in the forecast, the vegetative fuel forest that has enveloped the neighborhood now seems foreboding. Despite the lack of any pattern, arson was suspected for each fire, making the situation all the more concerning.

On April 17th, a 5-acre brush fire broke out up the street, consuming one house and charring neighboring property. One burnt squirrel was discovered at the base of the power pole leading to the home and some began to blame the squirrel population for the outbreak of wildfires in the area.

Eastern Gray Squirrels (Sciurus carolinensis) are well known for their high wire acts. As nimble as they may be while crossing a line, if they touch a second line they can create a surge, electrocuting the animal and in this case, sending a flaming squirrel to the ground and starting a fire.

This isn’t the first time it has happened and it won’t be the last. Dry conditions continue in South Florida and hungry squirrels are on the move. I’m hoping for rain because we need it but I’m also concerned for the squirrels climbing around in the vegetative fuel in my back yard.

The photograph of the Eastern Gray Squirrel was taken in the mangrove forest of Secret Woods County Park in Fort Lauderdale, FL – far from any power lines.

Cicada Killers

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Friday, April 20th, 2012

Cicada Killer © E. R. Degginger, Color-Pic, Inc.

Cicada Killers – there are eastern and western species – are very big wasps, with the larger females reaching four centimeters. When the slightly smaller males gather in “leks” of dozens of individuals, all buzzing around and defending small territories, the effect is intimidating. These insects are truly frightening to folks who don’t know what they are, but rest assured for all their size and hectic activity, they are sheep in wolves’ clothing.
Like all bees and wasps, male Cicada Killers cannot sting, although if handled they may bluff with a false stinger than cannot break the skin. Females can sting, but must be strongly provoked or stepped on. I’ve spent lots of time observing and photographing Cicada Killers in the midst of a busy congregation and never been stung – although I was a little creeped out when they landed on my back. In any event, the sting is very weak, bearing the punch of a mere pin prick, with any discomfort diminishing within an hour. Reports of painful stings inevitably turn out to be similar-looking hornets or wasps. Cicada Killers are no threat except to sensitive allergic people.
Cicada Killers emerge from burrows up to three feet deep at the same time as cicadas begin their own above-ground chorus. Favored spots are in loose or sandy soil on gentle slopes with little vegetation. Trees or woodlots which harbor cicadas are always fairly close by. Cicada Killers are not social wasps, but tend to be found in aggregations where suitable habitat patches are located.

Dog-day Cicada, adult just emerged from nymph casing © Rob Curtis, The Early Birder

Male Cicada Killers emerge first, and await the females. Females hunt cicadas and bring them to burrows they have constructed; they possess large spurs on their hind legs for shoveling soil out the entrance hole. While female Cicada Killers are large, cicadas are larger and heavier. Several times I have heard a cicada song sputter, followed by a buzzy, struggling ball crashing to through the leaves, ending with a big commotion in the undergrowth: a female Cicada Killer subduing her prey. I’ve watched as she dragged her paralyzed quarry to a sturdy weed stalk, sometimes several feet away, hauled herself and the cicada up the stalk, finally taking flight with the cicada clutched underneath her.
In each nest chamber of a burrow, female Cicada Killers place either one cicada on which an unfertilized egg is laid (this produces a male) or two cicadas and a fertilized egg (these will be females). They lay about a hundred eggs in a season, most of which will be males.
In less than three weeks after they emerge, males die; females live another week or two. Underfoot, cicada killer larvae slowly consume their rations. It will be another year before a new generation appears, intriguing some of us, and fooling others to fear them.

Please don’t molest a colony of cicada killers. They are only dangerous to cicadas.

Mysterious Migration

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Thursday, April 19th, 2012

Cooper's Hawk, adult © Rick and Nora Bowers/VIREO

Raptors usually start to return to Manitoba in February and continue to arrive in waves right through April. I was in Ecuador for much of this period; so, when I returned I couldn’t wait to get out and enjoy the show. When a clear, sunny day with south winds arrived, I dropped everything and headed for the St. Adolphe Bridge. At this site south of Winnipeg I can often see as many as a thousand or more hawks and eagles on a good day. This day was almost a complete bust. Six Bald Eagles, a Cooper’s Hawk, and a couple of Sharpies and Kestrels. Big whoop!

This, I discovered, was not unusual. The entire 2012 raptor migration season has been a bust in Manitoba. Far fewer Red-tailed Hawks, for instance, have passed over the St. Adolphe Bridge than ever before. At Windygates, in the Pembina River valley south of Morden and near the American border, the situation is more carefully monitored. Rigorous daily tallies from February through April indicate that 9,000 fewer raptors passed the observation points this year than in 2011.

Red-tailed Hawk adult, Western, dark morph © Greg Lasley/VIREO

These diminished figures have led to all sorts of speculation.

An unusually mild winter, with almost no snow accumulation, and an early onset of spring probably minimized the thermals that raptors rely on. Perhaps higher winds blew much of the straw and chaff off farm fields, resulting in fewer places for rodents to hide and a dearth of the usual stopover, refueling points for the raptors. Drought in the southern US, especially Texas, could also have affected migration.

American Kestrel adult female © Richard Crossley/VIREO

Whatever the causes, our raptors may have been hit by a triple whammy — displaced on their wintering grounds, contending with troublesome weather systems on their routes north, and spread out because of the lack of snow cover here, they may have altered their migratory routes or patterns or styles. They may be here and gone, having used non-traditional ways of getting into the province and farther north.

Or they may not be here yet. Or their numbers may have been dramatically reduced.

Only time will tell. What’s happened to the raptors in your area?

Catkins on Aspens

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Wednesday, April 18th, 2012

Catkins on a Quaking Aspen by Lisa Densmore

Location: Red Lodge, MT

I always smile at the thought of catkins, one of the sure signs of spring. These delicate two-inch fingers hang from every branch of the Quaking Aspens by my deck, but they don’t last long. I noticed the whitish bits of fluff on Monday. By Friday, the few that remained clung to sporadic twigs like dry, shriveled worms.

A catkin, also called an ament, is actually a skinny, gracefully drooping flower cluster with either very tiny or no visible petals. Its name comes from the Dutch word, katteken, which means kitten’s tail. They look like the tail of a miniature kitty and often feel as soft.

Many trees and shrubs bear catkins in the spring, including birch, alder, willow and hickory, though not all catkins arch downward. In some plants, only the male flowers cluster in catkins (the drooping kind). Others have female catkins, which are usually smaller, rounder, upright and turn into nuts later in the year. In yet others, such as Quaking Aspens, both male and female flowers are in catkins.

Aspen trees are “dioecious”, which means each tree is either male or female, unlike most trees, which are “monoecious” (both sexes occur on the same tree). Both male and female aspens produce catkins in early spring before leafing out. Pollinated female catkins release microscopic hairy seeds in early summer weighing about 1/10,000th gram. If the wind doesn’t quickly deposit the seed on a moist spot with favorable soil and weather conditions – pretty low odds in the Rocky Mountains – it won’t germinate. That’s okay. Aspens propagate mainly by growing new shoots off their root systems.

Do you know other species that proliferate in multiple ways?

The Bluebird Bully

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Tuesday, April 17th, 2012

Mountain Bluebird by Jack Ballard

In late October I moved out of the condo I’d been renting and into a house. Situated next to a couple of vacant lots with the backyard adjacent to a golf course, I was happy to find a nest box hung on a post near the fairway. Much of the winter was spent in speculation regarding what occupants (if any) might claim the box. Yesterday I found out.

While sitting in a favorite chair writing, I glanced outside to see a flutter of blue. The flutterer hovered over the nest box, then perched on its roof. As blue as the big blue-sky overhead, this male Mountain Bluebird was as pretty and energetic as any I’ve seen previously. He ducked inside the box, and then poked his head out the hole, like a prospective homebuyer appraising the front yard from the entryway of a house. He dropped to the ground to snatch a bug, and then winged up to perch happily on the top of the post to which the nest box is attached. How wonderful, I thought, to have such a beautiful bird for a neighbor.

Pine Siskin, adult male © Rob Curtis/VIREO

It turns out the other birds don’t like him. This bluebird is a bully. After a day of watching him harass Pine Siskins, Chickadees and House Finches from my feeders, I moved them to a tree further from the nest box. That’s spared the little guys, but the bully also shoves bigger boys around. A male Robin hunting for worms beneath the bluebird’s perch was promptly attacked and driven away. Ravens occasionally visit my neighborhood. Will he take them on as well?

Chances are he will. Bluebirds are highly territorial. Male Mountain Bluebirds can be exceptionally aggressive. With such a pugnacious personality, I’m wondering how well he’ll attract a mate.

After the Fire: Part Two

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Friday, April 13th, 2012

Gopher Apple by Rosemary Allen

Now, three months after the prescribed burn, in-between the blackened pines with their flush of green and the flowering Saw Palmettos, a carpet of Gopher Apple, Licania michauxii, lines this forest floor. Their shiny lime green leaves provide quite a contrast to the once bare and ash covered ground. They are flowering now and I have heard that the ripe purple fruit which is a 1” long elliptical drupe is not only a food source for Gopher Tortoises and other wildlife but can be eaten by humans as well. I look forward to trying them but hear that they are quite popular with the wildlife and I might not be able to find many once they ripen. It’s not surprising then, that these gopher burrows I noticed so prominently after the fire, border this patch of ground cover. Other ground covers have taken root as well, each according to its own needs. The placement of plants resembles a patchwork quilt and my brain is flooded with all the variables in soil, moisture and light that make this possible.

Forest Floor by Rosemary Allen

Among the low growing groundcovers is Phyla lanceolata or fog-fruit, one that I also find in my weedy lawn. In other areas the ground is carpeted with perennial seedlings such as rusty Lyonia, beauty berry, groundsel, and wax myrtle. Grape and hemp vines are sprouting up next to the palmettos but the edges between the pines and palmettos contain a large variety of flowering annual wildflowers. Those areas include Spanish needles, fleabane, tickseed, heliotrope, purple thistle, and large patches of ragweed, one of the first to sprout up after the burn. Invasive Caesar weed is also present with bushy clumps of dog fennel. Saw Palmettos are in bloom and their inflorescences punctuate the blackened floor with their cascading white flowers. I find the fragrance sweet as do the bees and treasure the honey made from these flowers that help me fight off allergies. Raccoons, deer and bears go after these plants in the fall when the fruits have ripened. I have tried the saw palmetto berries but can’t recommend them as a taste treat. However, it is used in some medicines.

Wildflower Mix by Rosemary Allen

The diversity of plant life demonstrates how fire can be regenerative and necessary to the health of this pine upland ecosystem and adds to my own health and well being. In 2-3 years this land will be ripe for another burn either wild or prescribed and this cycle will begin again. Until then, I will compete with the rest of the fauna, waiting for a taste of the ripe gopher apple fruits!

Saw Palmettos Blooms by Rosemary Allen

Birding Ain’t for Wusses!

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Thursday, April 12th, 2012

Summer Tanager adult male, Western © Joe Fuhrman/VIREO

I wasn’t the least bit afraid of heights when I was young. I remember standing on the third step from the top of a 30-foot extension ladder to paint the peak of a house one summer. No problem.

I guess I’ve gotten smarter. Heights now make me very nervous.

When I decided to go to Ecuador, I knew I was going to have to deal with this. Getting up into the canopy of trees or above them via birding towers is crucial.

At the Sani Lodge on the Napo River in Ecuadorian Amazonia I got my chance to test my resolve. Early one morning we hiked out to a green, steel tower about ten or twelve stories high; I deliberately didn’t calculate the height or even look up to see how tall it was.

Scarlet Tanager adult male, breeding © Rob Curtis/VIREO

To keep myself from bailing out, I deliberately went first. Wet, mesh steps and minimal rails made it an added challenge. I put a steely grip on both handrails and willed myself up.

About two-thirds of the way up the tower I had to stop and catch my breath in the middle of a stairway. As I stood there looking straight ahead, neither up nor down nor sideways, our guide Domingo ducked under my arm and went ahead.

Within seconds he touched my arm. I was concentrating so hard, I almost jumped out of my skin. “Essnake,” he whispered in his version of English.

Ahead in a corner of the next landing was an eight-inch coil of lime green, diamond-headed snake. If I’d gone two steps further, I’d have been staring right into its small, beady eyes.

Continue up or head back down?

With instructions from Domingo, I turned sideways, grabbed the right handrail behind me with both hands, and cautiously inched past the snake.

Flame-colored Tanager adult male © Robert A. "Spike" Baker/VIREO

My knees were jelly when I got to the top of the tower. A 12-foot bridge was all that separated me from the wooden platform at the top of a giant kapok tree. I grabbed the rails with both hands, closed my eyes, and crossed it.

Once on the platform I opened my eyes and reached for a wooden support nailed to a tree limb. Domingo grabbed my arm. “Bullet ant,” he said, pointing to a huge ant about an inch and a half long. “Bullet ant?” “If eet bite you, it feel like you heet by bullet.”

We had a productive morning in the canopy. Lots of parrots and macaws and aracaris, an Ornate Hawk-eagle, and many kinds of brilliantly colored tanagers, to name just a few. The climb was sure worth it.

Going down was no easier. In fact, it was scarier. The snake was still there, and I couldn’t help but look down.

Back at the lodge we discovered that the snake was an Amazonian Palm Viper, sometimes called a two-striped forest pit-viper (Bothriechys bilineate). No one at the lodge had ever seen it on the tower before. It would have to pick my day on the tower as its first!

Hepatic Tanger adult male © Rick and Nora Bowers/VIREO

Suburban Sanctuaries?

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Tuesday, April 10th, 2012

Moose by Lisa Densmore

On the rare occasion I’m riding in a car and not driving, I love to scan the cityscapes or countryside for wildlife. Riding in the passenger seat on a recent trip to Park City, Utah, I spied a dark blotch on a hillside of white snow and leafless, ashen aspens. Such anomalies in a consistent visual field are often interlopers. This one moved, revealing itself as a cow moose browsing on shrubs beneath the trees. Not far below the moose, a line of luxury homes dotted the hillside. Too bad for the moose. Urban sprawl is the bane of wildlife, isn’t it?

This moose might not think so. Several hundred miles north of the contentedly browsing cow, moose (and other large ungulates) must dodge hungry gray wolves, a predator artificially absent from their world for nearly a century. With a book (Wolves: A Falcon Field Guide) to finish by the end of the month, researching and contemplating the canis lupus species captures most of my waking hours.

Among the conclusions drawn by wolf researchers in the decade and a half since the animals’ reintroduction to Yellowstone Park and central Idaho, one is pertinent to this moose that seems to like her human neighbors in the housing development. Members of her species with a penchant for places populated by people might actually have an advantage over the more “wild” of her kind. Thus far, wolves of the Rocky Mountains tend to be found in areas where humans are absent. Moose, elk and deer that stick close to town may have a survival advantage when it comes to predators.

I’m not sure what to make of all this, but it’s an interesting piece of the oftentimes puzzling interactions between humans and wildlife. What do you think?

The Undiscovered Egg

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Monday, April 9th, 2012

Eggs by Jungle Pete

On Easter morning, my baby escaped from his sleeping mother’s grasp, toddled into the hallway and found a basket full of “grass” and a few starter eggs. He then proceeded to instinctively embark on an egg hunt throughout the house. He was a noisy predator and was discovered quickly, but we permitted the search to continue.

Eggs in the wild are not meant to be discovered. They are buried, camouflaged or tucked away. They are laid singularly with maximum parental protection or in multitudes with the hope that a percentage will survive. The effort that reptiles, birds, insects, amphibians (and yes the mammalian Platypus) go through to protect their potential offspring is perhaps what makes it so interesting to seek out and discover eggs.

When an egg is found, there are often plenty of clues that suggest who might emerge at the conclusion of incubation (if at all). The cotton candy-colored, spherical eggs in the top left corner are less than ¼ inch in diameter and have been deposited on a blade of cattail in a freshwater marsh. Tiny Florida Apple Snails (Pomacea paludosa) will hatch and descend to the water just several inches below.

Many birds camouflage their eggs with unique colors and markings. As the egg descends and rotates through the oviduct, fixed pigment glands color the shell and create unique works of art on the eggs of the House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) (top right corner).

The five glossy white Purple Martin (Progne subis) eggs in the bottom left corner would be conspicuous in any hanging bird nest, but in the cavity of a tree or in a bird house, color serves little purpose.

Not every nest is successful. The turtle eggs in the bottom right corner were dug up and eaten. The colorless, ping pong-sized eggs were discovered, most likely by an animal with a good sniffer.

Brown Anole by Jungle Pete

Brown Anoles (Anolis sagrei) will lay one to two eggs in soft soil or under leaf litter. Their eggs range from white to speckled brown.

I can still recall the thrill my sister experienced when she found an Easter egg at my grandmother’s when we were kids. My parents were amused. It was the day before Easter and this well hidden, well camouflaged egg had remained undiscovered for nearly a year.