The Maumee River Rapids

The mighty Maumee River in northwest Ohio, as seen in yesterday's wintry conditions. The Maumee forms in eastern Indiana, forged from the confluence of the St. Joseph and St. Marys rivers. From there, it flows 137 miles east-northeast to Lake Erie. The Maumee River forms the largest watershed in the Great Lakes drainage basin.

I was flattered to be invited to speak at the inaugural Kuebeck Nature Forum, sponsored by the Bowling Green Parks and Recreation Department. The forum is a legacy of the late Dr. Edelbert Kuebeck, a great supporter of the environment. The talk was last night, attracted a large group, and we had a great time. I headed up a few hours early, to visit the Maumee River and see what I could see - a side trip that would have been heartily endorsed by Dr. Kuebeck, I am sure.

This spot is a famous locale in the annals of Ohio history. The rock in the center of the river, butting up to the abandoned bridge, is Roche de Bout (sometimes called Roche de Boeuf), a massive limestone chunk washed from the river's banks long ago. Native Americans used the rock as a landmark, and meeting place. Miamis, Shawnees, and other tribes held councils atop the rock.

Roche de Bout is a must-see if you're in the area, and it is accessible from Farnsworth Metropark, which is a Toledo Metropark holding. The site is on the upstream outskirts of Waterville.

Turning my camera the other direction, we're treated to this view. The Maumee is truly grand in scale, and much of the section of river between Waterville and Grand Rapids, about nine miles upstream, is full of shallow rocky rapids. Because of the turbulence, the water doesn't freeze and as a consequence the river is a wintertime birding hotspot. Plenty of Common Goldeneyes, Common and Red-breasted mergansers, Lesser Scaup and other hardy diving ducks were working the rapids.

This is the dam at the picturesque town of Grand Rapids. Plenty of ducks were working the downstream rapids, and a large group of gulls was loafing on the ice just upstream of the dam. This area often attracts gull species rare away from Lake Erie, such as Glaucous and Iceland gulls. In spring and fall migration, shorebirds often loaf and forage in the shallows, and riparian woodlands can be full of songbird migrants.

If you get the chance, explore the Maumee River rapids. It's certain to be an interesting trip, regardless of the season.

Photography talk, March 13, all are welcome

Blue Dasher, Pachydiplax longipennis

I am always flattered when asked to give a talk on photography, as I would think of myself more as a person that uses photographs to tell stories, rather than as a photographer. That said, I do try and constantly improve my skills, and enjoy shooting a wide variety of subjects.

The Lens & Leaves Photography Club has invited me to give a photography talk, and we're doing it next Thursday, March 13th. The group focuses on natural history, and is welcoming of guests of all levels of interest and skill. You are invited. The meeting commences at 7 pm, and will take place at beautiful Blacklick Metro Park on the east side of Columbus. CLICK HERE for details.

Blue-eyed Mary, Collinsia verna

 Rather than focus completely on technical aspects of photography, I will talk more about finding interesting subjects, composition, and light.

Eastern Fence Lizard, Sceloporus undulatus

I've got images from at least six different cameras in the talk, from point & shoots to my current Canon 5D Mark III. One need not have the latest and greatest camera to make nice images.

Harlequin Ducks, Histrionicus histrionicus

I suppose the talk will be in large part a photographic nature show, as I've included a wide array of animal and plant life from many different regions. The gorgeous ducks above were photographed on the barnacle-encrusted rocks at Barnegat Light, New Jersey.

Red-banded Hairstreak, Calycopis cecrops

The thumbnail-sized hairstreak is an excellent macro subject, and I plant to talk a fair bit about LITTLE STUFF, and how to make decent images of small bugs and whatnot.

If you're able, come on out next Thursday. Again, the details ARE HERE.

Winter moths

Morrison's Sallow, Eupsilia morrisoni

Toward the end of last Saturday's epic waterfowling excursion to Mosquito Creek Reservoir (that post, HERE), I headed off to check some meadows in the nearby Mosquito Creek Wildlife Area. The habitat looked prime for Short-eared Owls, and they're best found around dusk. In spite of waiting until nightfall, no short-eareds showed themselves, but we witnessed a phenomenon that made cruising around after dark worth the while.

While slowly threading the car along some sparsely traveled lanes, I noticed a moth flutter through the headlight beams. Then another, and another. In all, we must have seen two dozen. In warmer months no one would think twice about this, but the air temperature was 36 F! Brisk, to say the least. After seeing a few of these moths, and realizing that some sort of flight was occurring, I had to know what species was involved. Fortunately I had an insect net in the trunk - what self-respecting nerd doesn't carry an insect net? - and we put it to good use. Kristen Beck was also in the car, and with the next moth spotted, I hit the brakes, she leaped out net in hand, and Bingo! Mystery moth in hand.

It turned out to be a Morrison's Sallow, Eupsilia morrisoni, and the animal in the photo above is the very one that we captured. After puzzling over it a bit, I turned to BugGuide for expert confirmation and quickly got verification of its identity (thank you, "Novus philonatura!). With a name as a starting point, it was time to learn more about these curious cold weather moths.

Flipping to the section on sallows in Dave Wagner's amazing book, Caterpillars of Eastern North America, I learned the following: "This group includes many of our winter moths. All but the Red-winged Sallow emerge in the fall. The adults of several genera mate and lay eggs in the fall and early winter; others hibernate, periodically flying on warm nights, but wait until the first warm nights of late winter or early spring to engage in reproductive activities."

I then posted my photo to the Mothing Ohio Facebook page, and Kevin Bradbury weighed in, reporting that he sees this species coming to oozing maple sap about this time of year. Entomologist and moth authority Dave Horn then commented:

"Moths that overwinter as adults (like Morrison's Sallow) do so in a sheltered place such as under bark (or loose siding) where it might get quite warm in the afternoon of a winter's day. The high temperature in Columbus Saturday was 49 and the sun was out for part of that and I'd not be surprised if a hideout under south-facing bark reached 70 or warmer. If it gets that warm the moth can do the rest of the work by warming up, "shivering" the flight muscles to raise them to operating temperature (around 90-95 degrees). Then the moth can take flight, and as long as they keep the muscles moving they can maintain flight even at air temperatures below freezing. The "fuzz" on the thorax provides enough insulation so they can keep warm, so they need to find fuel (sap or syrup, or a moth-er's bait). (Yes, researchers worked this all out by installing micro-thermocouples into the thoraxes of moths and recording temperatures of fuzzy newly-emerged moths along with those of older, balder moths."

Very neat stuff, and I learned something new about the wide world of moths.
 

Snowy Owl update

Well, here it is in the earliest days of March - the cusp of spring! - but it doesn't feel like it. The temperature is 12 F as I write this. Weather more befitting creatures of the Arctic than bipedal primates that are rather poorly evolved for life in the subfreezing zone. But I bring news of that most fabulous of Arctic wanderers, the Snowy Owl. Reports have predictably tapered off, but I received a small spate of new owls from a few articles that were published about the birds. These reports, alas, were of birds seen some time ago, and are not apparently present anymore at the locales of their initial sightings.

I recently saw wildlife rehabber Kristen Beck, and she filled me in a few injured owls that had been taken to rehabilitation centers. At least one of those was fixed up and released to the wild - Go, owl!

But by far the biggest breaking news on the Snowy Owl front is the nearly miraculous appearance of one in Geauga County! Geauga County, of all places! All winter long, that northeastern Ohio county was a BIG WHITE BLOB surrounded by a sea of red counties (see map below). If you add up the number of owls reported from counties abutting Geauga, the total comes to forty-seven (47)!! But no, none of the birders there could produce even one Hedwig. I don't know, maybe their binoculars needed cleaning. I had taken to tormenting my few friends up there (maybe fewer after this post) about the desolate owless landscape that they called home. But the bleak period in Geauga County ornithological history has passed - THEY HAVE AN OWL!

Photo: Tami Gingrich

The poor Snowy Owl glares at the photographer from behind a post, no doubt peeved at being found out. Apparently it has been in this Geauga County locale since December. Darn good job of evading the birdwatchers by this sensational hooter, if you ask me.

Anyway, to the gist of this post. As of now, we stand at 169 owls reported, from 59 counties. If you don't hail from Ohio, we've got 88 counties, so that's a big chunk of them. And I wonder how many other owls were out there that never got reported. Probably lots. Anyway you shake it, this will probably go down as the largest documented irruption of Snowy Owls in Ohio's history. Some of the invasions of nearly a century ago might have rivaled or exceeded this one, but the numbers were not well documented.

The map is below. Look for Geauga County way up in the northeastern corner of the state. It's the county with a numeral one (1). Pay no mind to the fact that it surrounded by counties with lots of owls. I'm sure the Geauga County Birding Association members are out whooping up a celebratory storm tonight, now that they no longer must bear this owlbatross around their collective necks.

Ducks, and more ducks!

This is quite literally the Mecca of waterfowling in Ohio right now. We're standing next to State Route 88, which bisects Mosquito Creek Reservoir. The vast lake is frozen solid, as is just about every other water body in the state. For some reason, currents no doubt, a freshwater polyna consistently forms under and on either side of the bridge and do the ducks and other waterfowl pack in here. The village on the reservoir's east side is named Mecca; the burg on the lake's other side is West Mecca.

Mosquito Creek is in Trumbull County, way up in the northeast corner of the state. It isn't an area I get to very often, and it's nearly a three hour drive from Columbus. I had been hearing scores of fabulous reports from this lake, and had to experience the scene firsthand. It turned out to be a 16-hour day but worth every minute. I was able to connect with a bunch of friends I don't often get afield with: Tami Gingrich, Dave Hochadel, Kristen Beck, Larry Richardson, Don Keffer and more. We had a great time, and saw lots of stuff, some of which appears in the following images.

As is the norm for a late winter/early spring Ohio day, the skies were mostly leaden and gray. I managed the photo above during the approximately 16 minutes of blue sky that we had. I would LOVE to get back here on a sunny day for more photography, but that probably won't be happening. Once the ice breaks up, the fowl will disperse. But we'll probably have another good week or so at this locale, so if you can make the Mosquito Creek scene soon, do it!

If you're into waterfowl, a scene such as this will nearly send you into cardiac arrest. There may be nothing I love more in the bird world than witnessing a big congregation of waterfowl in very early spring. Nothing pushes the vernal envelope as do the ducks. An open lead full of birds is a noisy hyperactive scene. The birds are restless, full of the drive to push north and reproduce themselves.The only thing holding them back is cold and ice. They're hot on the heels of ice-out, pushing relentlessly northward as quickly as conditions permit.

A tiny sliver of the fowl that were present during my visit. There are five species of waterfowl in this photo, and one very aquatic member of the rail family. As always, you can click the photo to enlarge it. See if you can find and identify them all.

A squadron of Redheads prepare for landing. Birds were constantly coming in and out, making for an ever-shifting menagerie. I could have stayed, watched, and photographed all day. And I pretty much did just that.

Redheads dominate this frame; it was the most common diving duck present. Several other species can be seen: Canvasback, Bufflehead, Lesser Scaup, and American Coot. In total, we observed 22 species of ducks, geese, and swans (the coots don't count). That's over half of all the waterfowl species EVER seen in Ohio, counting the major rarities.

Onlookers were delighted when a noisy flock of Tundra Swans circled the opening. Several of the birds eventually dropped in and hung out for a while. Several of the nonnative Mute Swans were also present, and elsewhere we saw a handful of Trumpeter Swans. The Tundra Swan is our wild, highly migratory swan and this species is about as much a harbinger-of-spring as one could ask for.

A quartet of Lesser Scaup almost glow during a brief burst of sunlight. This species was fairly plentiful, but there were only a few of its doppelganger the Greater Scaup. CLICK HERE to see a photo of the latter.

A pair of drake Red-breasted Mergansers, the punk rockers of the duck world.

Huge and torpedolike, a male Common Merganser wings by. We hit the merganser trifecta, as a couple of Hooded Mergansers were also present. Common Mergansers are massive, and a well-fed one weighs three and a half pounds. Incredibly, this species is a cavity nester. Big as they are, these mergansers are fairly agile fliers to successfully thread their way into a tree hole or nest box. CLICK HERE to read the tale of Ohio's nesting population.

A trio of Common Goldeneye whistles in. And I do mean "whistle" - this species makes a loud, distinctive whistling tone with its wing feathers when in flight, and some waterfowlers refer to them as "whistlers". Like the aforementioned Common Merganser, the Common Goldeneye is also a cavity nester. Unlike the merganser, it does not nest in our state, but breeds further north. As a point of trivia, there are seven commonly occurring species of North American waterfowl (although not necessarily Ohio) that nest in cavities: Black-bellied Whistling-Duck, Wood Duck, Common Goldeneye, Barrow's Goldeneye, Bufflehead, Hooded Merganser, and Common Merganser. The species in red were present at the Mecca waters. Getting all seven of these species, with travel allowed to anywhere, on one day, would be a formidable challenge. NOTE: I am excluding the wild Muscovy, a U.S. rarity found only along the Rio Grande River in Texas.

A fleet of Common Goldeneye cavorts in the icy waters. Spring has totally sprung for this hardy species, and the males were in full courtship mode. These anatidaean clowns are quite amusing in their efforts to impress the girls. The goldeneye at far right is in the midst of his courtship display. An amorous male swims along, wagging his sizable head side to side, then suddenly throws his bill skyward and kicks his bright orange feet from the water, while emitting a comical squeaking buzz. The females act rather aloof during this energetic display, but it must work - we have plenty of goldeneyes. Ah, the things a guy must do to woo the girl... CLICK HERE for a good video of the goldeneye courtship display.

The most famous occupants of the Mosquito Creek Reservoir polyna are these Long-tailed Ducks. There were eleven of them in the house yesterday - ten drakes, and one hen. Here, the less ornate female is escorted by a phalanx of showy males. This species was once known as the "Oldsquaw", a perhaps politically incorrect nod to the males' noisy and rather incessant vocalizations. The ten birds that were here occasionally let loose with their odd howling complaints, and we could easily hear them over the rest of the fowl. Get a pack of thousands of Long-tailed Ducks together, and the din is quite impressive - they can be heard from a mile if the conditions are right.

Along with scoters and eiders, Long-tailed Ducks are sea ducks, and most spend the majority of their lives on salt water. Long-taileds are incredible divers, and if conditions call for it, they will dive 200 feet or more in search of food.

Ohio and elsewhere in the interior eastern U.S. has experienced a perhaps unrivaled influx of Long-tailed Ducks (and White-winged Scoters). I put forth a theory as to why that might be HERE.

New River Birding & Nature Festival!

The world famous New River Gorge bridge, as seen from Long Point on a misty May morning.

It's high time to get spring's schedule straight, and high time I plugged the New River Birding & Nature Festival! This event is centered on one of North America's great biological hotspots, the ancient New River at Fayetteville, West Virginia. This year's dates are April 28th to May 3rd, and if you want to start spring off with a bang, make this scene. The festival has no peer when it comes to beauty of the scenery, biological diversity, and quality of the guides and speakers (possibly excepting your narrator). Following are some photos of what you can expect to see; for the complete festival low-down, CLICK HERE.

A rushing stream cuts through Babcock State Park, one of our many field trip destinations. We find many species of interesting birds here, and lots of cool plants, including pink lady's-slipper orchids. There are NO bad field trips, and whether you attend for part of the week, or the entire week, you'll end up with an impressive species list.

This slope, just uphill from the previous shot, is carpeted with snarls of great rhododendron overtopped by eastern hemlock and yellow birch. Black-throated Blue Warblers breed at this exact spot, and not far away and in similar haunts nests that most coveted of West Virginia warblers, the Swainson's Warbler.

I've been guiding at this festival for the better part of a decade, and once the organizers (Dave! Geoff! Keith! Rachel!) figured out that I knew plants, I drew the plum field trip assignment ever since: Cranberry Glades! This jewel of a spot is nestled high in Monongahela National Forest, and is a naturalist's dream. The red spruce and cranberry bog is full of boreal birds near their southernmost nesting limits.

Cranberry Glades isn't just famous for its birds. Indeed, the complete name of our target area is the Cranberry Glades Botanical Area, and with just cause. The bog is full of interesting and rare flora, such as this tiny northern coralroot orchid. Larger showier fare includes Bartram's serviceberry and painted trillium.

This mountaintop field has awed many a birder. It is filled with courting Bobolinks, and their bubbly R2-D2 songs are especially inspiring given the grandeur of the scene.

When the Cranberry Glades trip is done with the bog and boardwalk, we head off down the mountaintop highway. This group was especially happy because we had just seen, heard, and studied a territorial Mourning Warbler. It was but one of about 27 species of warblers you might see, including Cerulean and Golden-winged warblers.

Another specialty of the spruce-clad mountains around Cranberry Glades is the local population of Red Crossbills. They breed up there, but as is typical of crossbills, they are nomadic and one never knows where they'll be from year to year. But the chances of finding some are decent. Even if we don't, you'll experience a nearly overwhelming immersion in nature, made comprehensible by good people-friendly guides who really know the area.

I hope you can make it, and CLICK HERE for registration information.

If you want to read more firsthand accounts and see plenty of photos, type in New River in the search box in the upper lefthand corner of this page. I've made many posts about this festival in past years.

Black Skimmer, skimming

A Black Skimmer slices the water in a Florida wetland. I made this photo in 2011, and always liked it, in part because I really like this species. Black Skimmers have an elongated lower mandible, and are adept at doing just what their name suggests - skimming low over still waters, cutting the surface with their specialized bill, and harvesting whatever small piscine life is unlucky enough to be in the path. The bird is like a feathered crop duster of doom to the aquatic crowd, dropping from the sky and plowing a trail of destruction through the shallows.

We've never had a Black Skimmer in Ohio, and I don't expect that we will. But if one were to turn up here, now, it'd hurt its beak. Most all of our water is still in ice, and that doesn't make for good skimming. Here in the North it is the winter that won't end. It is 16 F as I write, and tomorrow's high will be 18 F, dropping to a low of 6 tomorrow night. For the most part, low temperatures such as those are forecast for the next week or so.

Perhaps if I offer up this Black Skimmer as a photographic propitiation to the gods of summer, heat, and sun, they will make winter relinquish its hold.