An American Robin hunts worms

 

An American Robin (Turdus migratorius) with a just-captured earthworm. 

Last week, Shauna and I traveled to the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area on a whirlwind trip. I was to give a talk (moths) to the Garden Club of Allegheny County on Thursday, so we headed over bright and early on Wednesday to photography waterfalls around the Ohiopyle area.

Upon arriving at our cabin late that day after a photo outing, there was an American Robin on the lawn. Whoop de doo, you might think - robins are one of the most abundant and widespread birds in North America. That's one of their allures, to me. I can go to the wildest northern Michigan forest, midwestern prairie remnants, local parks, urban cityscapes, my back yard, and there they are. The big thrushes are nothing if not adaptable.

But robins are much more than adaptable. The robust caroling song is beautiful and a near ever-present sound of nature. They're showy, too - so much so, that if robins were rare, everyone would go ape over them. Their stout nests are remarkable architectural achievements: an adobe cup that dries to the hardness of a China bowl, and its neatly reinforced with grasses and other vegetation. And the color of the eggs spawned the name of a color: robin's-egg blue.

Anyway, as we took a moment to watch the robin, it suddenly lunged and caught a worm. Cool! Said I, then noted that photographing an American Robin in the act of snagging a worm was still on my bucket list. As there were several robins hunting the lawns, Shauna suggested that I go try and check that item off the list, so I did.

A male American Robin looks and listens for invertebrate prey in the grass. When one freezes, lowers its head and cocks it slightly, action is about to ensue. The robin is using its sensitive ears to listen for worms and other prey, as well as watching with keen eyes.

Bingo! The robin pounces! It has its head way down in the grasses and is about to come up with a favored prey item. I'm not sure the bird could even see the victim and may have divined its location entirely by ear.

PHOTO NOTES: I made all of these images with my Canon R5 and 400 DO II lens. It was coupled to the Canon 1.4xII extender, giving me 560mm of reach. That was plenty. Robins are fairly tame to begin with, and after a while this bird became used to me, and I was typically within 30-50 feet of it. I was shooting wide-open at f/5.6 (without the extender, the lens would be an f/4 of course). As robins in the midst of attacking prey can move with astonishing speed, I used a shutter speed of 1/2500. And, as almost always is best with animals, I was at or near ground level for these shots, to be on my subject's level. And the camera was on electronic shutter mode at 20 frames a second, to capture all of the action.

Unlike the worm in the first image, this one is a monster "nightcrawler". Here, the robin has just seized it and is working to tug the worm from the burrow. While such a task is fast and easy with a tiny worm, it is tougher when a big worm is involved. When under attack, the worm can bunch the powerful muscles that form rings down its body and plug itself into the burrow. Furthermore, worms are beset with rows of external setae - short stiff hairs - that can also help in holding it in place.

The robin tugs with all of its might. The bird is actually off of the ground and leaping/pulling backward. There were a few near extractions like this, and the worm would manage to tug itself further back into the hole. Then the robin would yank harder and in fairly short order it had won the battle.

The worm separates from the ground with great force, as if someone had let go of the other end of a Slinky. Its body coils sinuously as the pressure is instantly released, and the robin had it down the hatch shortly thereafter.

It should be noted that all of the large earthworms in this part of the world, insofar as I know, are not native. They are native to Europe and Asia and were brought over by accident in shipping material such as soils associated with nursery plants. It didn't take long for them to spread far and wide and increase enormously in abundance.

It didn't take long for the clever and adaptable American Robin to learn about worms and make them a large part of its diet.

Fox Sparrows in the yard, and an upcoming sparrow program

 

A handsome rusty-red Fox Sparrow (Passerella iliaca) in the author's Worthington (Ohio) yard on April 4 of last year.

I am fortunate to get Fox Sparrows in the yard nearly every year, but until this winter they have always been migrants and short-term visitors.

Not this year. Two Fox Sparrows have been here since last October, and I see them daily - at least when I'm here to see them - up until the present. In recent weeks, one of them has begun singing and what a song it is. A loud slurry whistled aria, as if the bird had been drinking. But is still largely holding together the notes that comprise its beautiful melody. I walked out at dawn to feed everyone the other morning, and it was like stepping into the boreal forest. The Fox Sparrow was singing, as was a White-throated Sparrow, and a Dark-eyed Junco. At least a dozen of each of the latter two species have also been around all winter.

On March 29, I am giving a photo-rich talk about the Sparrows of Ohio at the Creating Living Landscapes Conference, sponsored by the Midwest Native Plant Society. It's at the Bergamo Center in Dayton, and the event features a fine slate of speakers on a diversity of topics. For full details and registration info, GO HERE. We would love to see you there!

Greater White-fronted Goose

 

As always, click the image to enlarge

Eleven Greater White-fronted Geese (Anser albifrons), along with a Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) forage on a grassy bank of a small lake. About 60 other "speckle-bellies", in hunter slang, where present, along with several hundred Canada Geese, four Ross's Geese (Anser rossii), and two Cackling Geese (Branta hutchinsii).

On February 23, Shauna and I ran down to a nearby pond in southwestern Franklin County (Ohio) to marvel over a flock of about 70 "Speckle-bellies". She had never seen this western species of goose, which was formerly a rare migrant in Ohio, but is becoming much more common. North American populations of this tundra breeder are increasing at an estimated 5% annually, and there are about 5 million Speckle-bellies globally.

A Greater White-fronted Goose drops to the ice for a nap, along with four of its compadres. The air temperature was quite brisk, in the low 20's F. Ice and cold are nothing to the hardy speckle-bellies and these are spring migrants, pushing north on the edge of ice-out.

Map courtesy of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Birds of the World monographs. I am a longtime subscriber, and if you are a student of birds, you should be, too.

Greater White-fronted Geese breed in Arctic regions over much of the globe, and the orange areas represent the breeding range. The speckle-bellies in my images have a long way to go. While there is no way to know exactly where they're headed - Alaska? northern Hudson Bay?, Nunavut? - one thing is clear: they still have a long haul ahead. It is about 1,500 miles to the nearest local that they might nest.

Birds that breed in such northerly latitudes are no strangers to frosty temperatures and icy conditions.

A handsome bird indeed, a Greater White-fronted Goose holds up a foot, enabling us to admire its orange legs. They match its bill quite nicely. We also see why the "speckle-belly" nickname arose. The formal name Greater White-fronted Goose stems from the bold ivory ring around the base of the bill. As the name implies, there is a Lesser White-fronted Goose (Anser erythropus).  It is a Eurasian species of more limited and scattered distribution, and at the risk of stepping into the subjective waters of beauty and what constitutes it, an even showier bird than the Greater White-fronted Goose. It breeds as far east as eastern Siberia - you know, the land that Sarah Palin could see from her house - but there are only two North American records: Attu, Alaska in the Aleutian chain in 2004, and 2013 on St. Paul Island, Alaska, in the Bering Sea (three years after I was there, darn it).

As noted in the first paragraph, Greater White-fronted Geese have increased greatly, both as migrants through Ohio, and in the overall range. A number of factors might account for this, including wetland restoration and increased foraging habitat on wintering grounds, better protection and stronger game laws, and the adaptability of certain large goose species, of which this is one.

Lake Erie waterfowl

 

The iconic Marblehead Lighthouse, near the eastern end of the Marblehead Peninsula. It is one of the most visited spots on Lake Erie.

On February 18, I traveled to Gates Mills, near Cleveland, to speak to the Cleveland Garden Club. This wonderful group has been in existence for 112 years! My subject was moths/conservation gardening. The temperatures were hardly mothy, though, but we were indoors so who cares.

But after that morning talk, I headed an hour and a half west, to the spot in the image above. A very rare (for Ohio) Barrow's Goldeneye (Bucephala islandica) had been present, and it was off the lighthouse up until about an hour before I arrived. It never reappeared during my time, but I am not a big lister/chaser anymore and have seen hundreds if not thousands of Barrow's Goldeneyes elsewhere, both on the east coast, and Alaska. Seeing it in Ohio would have been nice, but c'est la vie.

As always, click the image to enlarge

I was at least as interested - probably more so - in seeing the scads of waterfowl of at least ten species that had congregated on this part of the lake. It was a bit frosty, as the temps hovered around 12 F, and it was a gusty day with wind chills below zero. After nearly four hours of standing along the shore, I felt a little icy.

Enduring the cold was more than worth it. Perhaps 5,000 ducks were in the general area. In this group, most of the birds are Canvasbacks (Aythya valisineria), but Bufflehead (Bucephala albeola), Common Goldeneye (Bucephala clangula), Redhead (Aythya americana), Greater Scaup (Aythya marila) and Lesser Scaup (A. affinis) can be seen.

A quintet of drake Redheads wings past, with a hen amongst them and scads of fowl in the background. The toughness of these birds is incredible. Freezing air, strong winds, and water right at the edge of icing up doesn't faze them. In fact, the scores of common goldeneye drakes were busily courting the hens. This behavior is a true harbinger of spring, and if you've not seen goldeneye courting, it is a treat. The amorous drake throws his head back till it touches his tail, while emitting a loud squeaky buzz. Sometimes he'll kick his bright orange feet/legs from the water. There might be a half-dozen guys doing their aquatic break dancing for one hen, the latter of which seems to studiously ignore them (but she's not).

It was interesting to watch the group dynamics. At times, big flocks of ducks would fly/paddle across the water, barely getting airborne, and move a few hundred yards or so. I assume they were trying to stay over schools of fish such as Emerald Shiners (Notropis atherinoides).

A drake Greater Scaup flies over a duck-filled section of Lake Erie. A hen of the same species floats just to his right, and a drake Canvasback dozes in the rear. In the upper lefthand corner is a hen Common Goldeneye. Many Greater and Lesser Scaup were present, and it was a great opportunity to observe their differences. At first, the two scaup are confusingly similar. In flight, the extent of white on the wings is a good field mark, illustrated by this drake in flight. The white wing stripe extends well out into the primary flight feathers, while on the Lesser Scaup the white stripe is limited to the secondary flight feathers - the wing stripe is much shorter and less conspicuous.

The much hardier and more northerly breeding Greater Scaup is in general much scarcer in Ohio, with large numbers only occurring on Lake Erie in winter. During migration, especially in spring, Lesser Scaup can be abundant, and over 100,000 can accumulate on Maumee Bay near Toledo.

It won't be long, and these birds will have pushed on north and west. This was the first truly cold winter that we've had in a few years, and winter waterfowling on Lake Erie was great.

A snowy day

Today was a superbly showy (or snowy) day. About 3-4 inches of sticky snow fell on central Ohio, blanketing everything with a white coat. Shauna and I visited Highbanks Metro Park, just north of Columbus (Ohio), and hiked three miles through the wintry landscape. Photo ops were everywhere, but it was just nice to be out in a real winter, like they should be.

Your narrator leans against some sort of large plant along one of the many miles of trails at Highbanks. Thanks to Shauna for the photo.

The last few winters have been mild, with very little snow and not much in the way of truly cold temperatures. For the next week, lows will be in the mid to low teens (tomorrow night's low is supposed to be 6 F!), and highs from the mid-teens to mid 20's. This winter reverted back to normal winters of not so long ago. I hope this trend returns for future winters.

Coyotes rescued from deplorable captive environment

 

A coyote glances over her shoulder. This animal was rescued from brutal conditions at a fur farm.

This was one of 128 coyotes rescued from an Ashtabula County, Ohio fur farm in late January. Also found at this animal hellscape, called the Grand River Fur Exchange, were 124 red foxes, 88 skunks, 52 "wolves" (wolf hybrids) and lesser numbers of several other species. They were being mined for various musks and urines (used in hunting, as repellents in gardens, and probably other purposes), for furs, and for sales to captive breeders. The coyotes and many others were in cages hardly big enough to turn around in, and often not enough room to stand upright. Numerous dead animals were found during the raid, including a gray fox (listed as a Species of Concern by the Ohio Division of Wildlife. Gray fox has declined significantly in recent decades). This was animal cruelty in the extreme. No animal deserves such treatment, and similar operations need ferreted out and shut down. I have heard that many others exist within Ohio.

Fortunately, there are people like Gwen Hoogendoorn, who organized the rescue mission on the heels of law enforcement raiding and shutting down this monstrous operation. She also (with permits, of course) took four of the coyotes to much more capacious housing. I was able to visit these four coyotes the other day and admire the tough survivors. Thanks Gwen and everyone else involved in this rescue operation. There were numerous partners, and I don't know who they all are. Or I'd list them all. But the operation was originally spurred by the Humane Society of the United States, who were tipped to the conditions at the operation. Gwen was tapped for her leadership due to her logistical and organizational abilities, and widespread contacts within the wildlife rehabilitation community. The Ohio Wildlife Center played a role, as did Nature's Nursery and many other individuals and organizations.

Bobcat Talk: Next Saturday at Cedar Bog

 

A Bobcat (Felis rufus) pointedly ignores the photographer. I made this image last October, in the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge in Georgia. After a bit, the cat stalked off in the insouciant manner that only a cat can muster.

Shauna Weyrauch, who teaches at Ohio State University's Newark Campus and does research involving Bobcat den sites and is an authority on Ohio's only remaining wild cat (Lynx and Mountain Lion once occurred), will speak on these fascinating felines next Saturday, February 8 at 10 am in the visitor's center at Cedar Bog. Admission is free and all are welcome.

Shauna, along with wildlife photographer Dutch Gordon, recently published a book entitled The Boy and the Bobcat. It's geared towards kids, and I doubt the kid exists who wouldn't be interested in Bobcats. Shauna will have books on hand ($20), and her talk will be of interest to the younger set. Please feel free to bring any kids you have or know.

After the talk, Shauna, myself, and Cedar Bog volunteers will lead a foray around the boardwalk. Cedar Bog is one of Ohio's most remarkable natural resources and is chockful of rare species. Bobcats have been documented there, and though our odds of connecting with one are slim to none, we will see oodles of other interesting stuff. Skunk-cabbage (Symplocarpos foetidus) abounds, and I won't be surprised if some plants are already in flower. Located just south of Urbana, Cedar Bog is easily accessible from Columbus and anywhere else in central Ohio.

Hope to see you there!

 

A female Slightly Musical Conehead (Neoconocephalus exiliscanorus) rests on someone's heavily used field bag. Note her extremely long, sword-like ovipositor. It's not there to stab enemies. She uses it to inject eggs deep into plant tissue where, safely ensconced, they are safer from predators.

The group of katydids known as coneheads (long before Saturday Night Live came up with the skits of the same name) are charismatic, and mostly LOUD. While many of the orthopteran singing insects create quite pleasant songs (by rapidly scraping their wings together), melodious is not a word most would apply to many conehead species. Some of them sound like an electric line that has shorted and is loudly buzzing.

The mildly pejorative "slightly musical" in the case of this species is somewhat justified. While not as abrasive as some other conehead songs, it is not a song that one would put on the same plane as a Baltimore Oriole, or Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Nonetheless, it has a pleasant soft buzzing quality, albeit a tune that could easily be overlooked among the scads of singing insects in late summer and fall.

To hear a Slightly Musical Conehead for yourself, now, visit the Songs of Insects website, RIGHT HERE. This site, and the book that it is based off, are the works of Wil Hershberger and Lang Elliott, two of the most knowledgeable naturalists and best recordists of natural history sounds in North America. The accompanying video at the website linked above features a video of a singing male (only males sing) showing how it rubs its wings together (stridulates) to create its song.

I've been attempting to catch up with archival of images shot over the last year, and this conehead came from a trip to a wonderful new Arc of Appalachia acquisition in the Killbuck Valley region, in Holmes County, Ohio, aptly named Killbuck Swamp. A group of us visited there last August 8 to participate in a bio-blitz of the property. Scads of interesting organisms were found. Seeing the image of this conehead made me long for warmer days. We've gone through what - in modern times - has been a pretty frosty, snowy winter. But the days are getting longer, birds are increasingly singing, and it won't be long at all until the first Skunk-cabbage is blooming.

More sparrows, and a sparrow talk!

 

An American Tree Sparrow (Spizelloides arborea) plunders seeds from a Virginia mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum) plant this morning. The bird may only weigh 20 grams, but it is tough as nails. It was minus 2 F when I made this shot early on the morning of January 19. We walked a fair bit through a large prairie remnant north of Columbus and saw dozens of tree sparrows. They were unfazed by the frigid temperatures. There was plenty of Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans) at this site, and the sparrows were also feasting on that.

The plucky sparrow in the act of plundering seeds from the mountain mint. A major goal of mine is photo-documenting birds interacting with the native plants that they rely on. 

Sparrows are utterly dependent upon plants and are largely vegan for much of the year. I'm giving a talk about sparrows and their ecology at the Midwest Native Plant Society's "Creating Living Landscapes" conference near Dayton, Ohio on March 29. Registration is open and all are welcome. There are a number of other speakers presenting on interesting topics, and it should be a great time. The event website, with full details and registration info, is RIGHT HERE.

Hope to see you there!

Birds eating native plant fruit

 

A gorgeous White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) perches on the leafy stalk of a tall Goldenrod (Solidago altissima). This seems to be a great winter for them in Ohio. I've had up to a dozen at once in my backyard and have seen/heard scores of them on nearly every field outing, no matter where. This individual is of the white morph, which in my experience, in this part of the world, is greatly outnumbered by the drabber tan-striped morphs.

In spite of the frigid temperatures of late, the jaunty little sparrows are already tuning up their voices. I hear the mournful whistled songs daily now, even in single digit temps. Lengthening daylight is stimulating the males to hone their voices. I miss them when they return to the north woods to breed.

I should note that when I made this image, in late October in Champaign County, Ohio, several dozen White-throated and White-crowned sparrows were gorging on the seeds of tall goldenrod (often referred to as Canada goldenrod, but that's another story) and various asters. These native plants are a vital source of food for seed-eating birds and should be conserved whenever possible. There are about 37 native goldenrod species in Ohio, and perhaps 46-47 native asters, a number of which are available in the native nursery trade, and any of them are great additions to the yardscape for those interested in spiking biodiversity. Leaves for Wildlife Native Plant Nursery, Scioto Gardens, and Monarch Meadows Native Plant Nursery are good central Ohio sources for native flora.

A White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys) feasts on tall goldenrod. It and its comrades were also snacking on the fruit of purple swamp aster (Symphyotrichum puniceum), which is an utterly stunning plant when in bloom.

An American Goldfinch (Carduelis tristis) plunders seeds from the capsules of a senescent common evening-primrose (Oenothera biennis). This native likely will pop up in your yard with no assistance. If it does, consider yourself fortunate and protect it. This primrose is also alluring to some very cool moths, including the spectacular primrose moth (Schinia florida). Read about that marvelous insect, along with an interesting photo, RIGHT HERE.

More fun with Southern Flying Squirrels

 

Yesterday dawned crisp and snowy, but plans were afoot to join Professor Don Althoff of the University of Rio Grande and other squirrel enthusiasts to conduct research on one of our most interesting mammals, the Southern Flying Squirrel (Glaucomys volans). The temps were in the low teens when Shauna and I departed Columbus early that morning, and it was probably about 20 F when I made this image in northwestern Athens County. Our squirrel "lab" was those distant woods.

The meadow above is dubbed the Dennis Profant prairie and is part of Hocking College's land lab. Dennis was a professor there, and a real jack-of-all-trades when it came to the natural world. A true natural philosopher, with an especially keen interest in moths. We lost Dennis in 2015 - far too early - and this prairie is a fitting memorial to him. HERE IS a short piece that I wrote about Dennis.

This was our crew on this snowy, blustery day. Almost all 14 of us. Our fearless leader, the indefatigable Dr. Althoff, took the photo. Almost everyone here has been on at least one of these Southern Flying Squirrel (SFS from here on) box checks. I think it was my fifth, time, Shauna's second, and some of these people have been far more times than that.

Our leader, Don Althoff, scales the 35 lb. ladder that must be lugged over rugged terrain. One of the large boxes that the squirrels use for winter roosts - and nest sites in the breeding season - is in front of him.

Don has 16 squirrel trails in about a half-dozen southeastern counties, and each has 25 of these boxes. My iPhone recorded a distance of about 1.5 miles to get around this one. Not far at all, but throw in the hills, fairly deep snow, and the equipment that must be hauled along, and it's a pretty good workout (at least for the equipment-haulers).

This was cool, and highly unusual. As Don placed the ladder and began scaling the tree to this box, I noticed something in the hole. A SFS! The curious beast was peeking out to see what was going on. Such behavior is very rare as I understand it. Normally the squirrels are all sacked out at the bottom of the box, but either this guy wanted a peek at the winter wonderland, or he heard our approach and wanted to see what was happening.

One of the 16 SFS that was captured that day. One box had nine SFS inside! Althoff has had boxes with 15 squirrels on a few occasions. Why so many (there is almost always multiple squirrels roosting together)? SFS are highly social, but heat plays a big role in the formation of these squirrely scrums. Pack three, five, nine, or 15 squirrels in a box and its warm as toast in there, or at least far warmer than the outside air temperature.

All Don's gear is specially designed for the squirrels and expedites their safe and speedy handling and release. Each is weighed, sexed, and given an ear tag with a unique number that allows it to be positively identified if recaptured. Other data is collected as well, and over the nearly three decades that Althoff has studied SFS, he's generated a mountain of information on this little-known completely nocturnal mammal. Oh, squirrel releases are possibly the coolest part of the process. the SFS is placed on a tree trunk, and usually as soon as its handler lets go, it races upwards, 20-30 feet or higher. Then, oftentimes, it launches into an incredible glide that must be seen to be believed. Winglike flaps of tissue extend between forelegs and hindlegs, and when stretched taut form wings. The squirrel cannot fly, in the sense of sustained flight, but the furry aerobats are quite dexterous and jig and jag around trees and branches. While rare, these flight/glides can be 150 feet or more, although one-third or so that distance would be much more common. When the SFS lands, it flips its broad, flat beaverlike tail upwards. This sends the animal's head upward and slows the airspeed considerably, allowing for an easy landing. Almost invariably the newly alit squirrel dashes to the other side of the tree. That's likely an adaptation to thwart would-be predators such as owls, that may have been following it.

The following is a quote from the book Mammals of Ohio, by Jack Gottschang (1981): "Perhaps because of its nocturnal and secretive habits, this squirrel has escaped close investigation by all but a few mammalogists; no one has studied it in detail in Ohio."

Gottschang's words are now sorely dated, and I'm sure he'd be glad of it. Because of Don Althoff's remarkable tenacity in studying the difficult to access SFS, we know FAR more about them and their life history.

HERE IS a link to another piece that I wrote about Don and his work, this one from my Columbus Dispatch column, Nature, dated January 1, 2018. I've got a few more posts about SFS on this blog, with many more pictures. Just type "Althoff" into the search box at the top upper left corner of the blog.

Lots of cool stuff to post, but precious little time to do it. Hopefully a meatier post will come within a few days, but for now, here's one of the world's cutest birds:

As always, click the photo to enlarge

A male Red-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta canadensis) takes a pause from the hard work of harvesting seeds from Virginia Pine (Pinus virginianus) cones. Shauna and I surveyed my long-standing territory in the Hocking Hills Christmas Bird Count today. This nuthatch was with four comrades, and we found another later. It was 16 F when I made this image this morning, but the tiny but tough (average length is 4.3 inches) nuthatches were unfazed.

Red-breasted Nuthatches are cyclical in their southward winter peregrinations, and this has been a fairly lean year for them. Food shortages in northern forests spark these irruptions, and we get significant spikes in nuthatches every other year, or perhaps two years might pass before a noticeable spike.

Virginia Pine is quite valuable ecologically, as it favors poor soils where many other trees do not fare well, and in boom years it produces copious cone crops. This pine is probably one of the major food sources for overwintering Red-breasted Nuthatches is southeastern Ohio.

Today's count was productive, and we tallied 40 species, some in large numbers, including 400 Dark-eyed Juncos! Notable was an Eastern Phoebe. This flycatcher is quite hardy, but most seem to move southward if winter weather gets too intense. I suspect this phoebe may have been "fishing", as it had ice on its face and bill, and was hunting low along a section of stream that still had some open water. Phoebes will take small fish and other aquatic organisms if need be and see THIS POST for an amazing example of this, featuring photos by Chuck Slusarczyk.

While I expect to find a phoebe on this count, at least in milder winters, American Pipits are not on my radar in this mostly hilly and forested area. Yet we found two, working a tiny area of flooded lawn in someone's front yard. One just never knows where birds might appear.