Bushes of M & M's

(Footnote: I understand the role of a paragraph in writing, really, I do. They're great. Paragraphs break up long blocks of text and make things oh so much more readable. But those of us that are longtime users of Blogger, the wondrous machine that enables us to make these posts, know of its foibles. And one of those is the occasional inability to insert a space between paragraphs. I tried, but the Blogger Gods kept scrunching everything back together. Maybe it's some act of stupidity on my part. Maybe a more knowledgeable Blogger Pilot can tell me what is going wrong and how to fix it. In any event, I apologize for the run-on paragraphs)

I was afield today, helping find birds as part of the annual Columbus Christmas Bird Count. The south side of town is my domain, and I get into some spots that I normally don't frequent. The above is one of them. We are looking west down Hart Rd., which runs off of Harmon Avenue. This year, the extreme fruit production of the Amur Honeysuckle, Lonicera maackii, really caught my eye. That's what all of those shrubs lining the roadway are, and so copiously loaded with berries are they that their collective masses created a reddish bloom to the shrubscape.

A closeup view of Amur Honeysuckle berries. Kind of showy, I suppose, and you can see why misguided landscapers might wish to grow it. But like The Blob, bush honeysuckle has gotten totally out of hand and now ravages the landscape. In a season of plentiful fruit, like this one, there must be literally millions of berries on bushes in Franklin County alone!

And those berries are bad news, as we shall see. But so is the physical structure and density of the shrubs themselves. So prolific are the honeysuckle that it utterly displaces native flora in many areas. Some think that the plant is also allelopathic; that is, it produces enzymes from the roots that inhibit the growth of other plants. I am a believer in the allelopathic theory, as the understory of a honeysuckle thicket is mostly barren earth. In native stands of shrubs, such as Spicebush, Lindera benzoin, one finds many other native plants. The massive underground root systems of large honeysuckle stands also drain moisture from the soil, drying the habitat and making it even more inhospitable for the plants that should be there.

The structure of honeysuckle shrubs does not lend itself to successful nesting, either. Studies have shown that the open habit of the shrubs offer less concealment to predators, and once a nest has been spotted, it is easier for predatory animals to climb and pillage.

There were hundreds of American Robins along Hart Road, feasting on the honeysuckle fruit. I caught some in the act, such as this female robin. Nearly everywhere I went today, robins were in evidence, feasting on this nasty invasive. So were lots of White-throated Sparrows.

Interestingly, the few Cedar Waxwings that I found were eating the fruit of a native tree, Hackberry, Celtis occidentalis. But in general waxwings prefer feeding higher off the ground, while white-throats and robins occupy niches on or near the ground. That's not to say waxwings won't eat this stuff, because they will.

Beautiful male American Robin, scarfing down oodles of berries. Ironically, native birds like robins are major vectors in the spread of invasive honeysuckles, and other non-native berry producing plants. But just like the native flora displaced by the honeysuckle, these birds too can pay a price.

And now to the M & M analogy. Honeysuckle fruit certainly look good, and judging by the way the hordes of robins wolf them down, they must be tasty. Had I had my choice between eating bags of M & M's as a kid, or spinach, liver, and broccoli, it would have been the little round confections every time. And my health would have suffered greatly for it.

Same with the birds. The honeysuckle fruit are primarily mostly made up of carbohydrates, and lack the important fats and nutrients that are often abundant in native shrub and tree fruit. So, this artificial bounty of berries entices huge numbers of robins and some other species to winter well north of where they normally would. All may be fine, until they got socked with a spell of brutal winter weather, with extended subzero temps, frozen ground, and ice. Then, the energy provided by honeysuckle is quickly depleted and mortality spikes sharply.

We saw this here in Columbus a few winters back, when a severe winter storm triggered the death of probably thousands of robins.

The web of ecological consequences spawned by invaders such as bush honeysuckle is often far-reaching and insidious, and generally not foreseen when these invasives are first touted as landscaping gems.

Do the world a favor - destroy a bush honeysuckle!

Decoys

I've long been infatuated with ducks. Even as an elementary school lad, I would pore over the accounts of sea ducks in the books and references that I had, trying to learn more about them. To me, growing up in landlocked Columbus, Ohio, birds like scoters and eiders had an exotic and wild aura, and I would even attempt to sketch them in what I imagined their cold coastal Atlantic haunts must look like.

And to this day, the diving ducks remain amongst my favorite groups of birds.

About two years ago, I was invited to speak at the Canton Audubon Society's annual Christmas Holiday meeting, which featured a raffle. I was instantly struck by two of the raffle items: a pair of beautifully carved and finished Long-tailed Duck decoys, one a male in alternate (breeding) plumage, and the other a drake in winter plumage. I found out that they were the handiwork of longtime birders Laura and Tim Dornan, and at the time I had no idea that they were carvers. Tim sculpts the birds from a block of wood, and Laura brings them further to life with her painting.

Of course, I bought some raffle tickets, hoping to snag one of the Long-tailed Ducks, and promptly lost. However, I was able to strike a deal later with the winner of the winter-plumaged Long-tail, and am now the proud owner.

Gorgeous drake Long-tailed Duck, once known by the more colorful if less visually descriptive name of Oldsquaw. The tail streamers on this decoy are made of metal for durability's sake, but blend seamlessly into the body of the bird. It is resting on an elevated stand, as the bottom of the decoy sports a keel, which would permit it to float correctly in the surf. But this bird will not be seeing any water, at least under my ownership.

Long-tailed Ducks are interesting in that both sexes have an alternate and a basic plumage, just as do many songbirds. Drakes in their breeding coats are much blacker than the bird above. We don't see many Long-tails here in Ohio, but elsewhere on the Great Lakes flocks numbering into the thousands congregate. Excellent divers, Long-taileds have reportedly been caught in trawler nets up to 200 feet down!

This was the first Dornan I specifically commissioned - a stunning drake Harlequin Duck, one of my favorite birds. The males are almost outlandish with their patterns of dots and dashes set against plumage of blue and cinnamon. The scientific name is Histrionicus histrionicus, which refers to a character of traditional Italian comedy and pantomime, the Harlequin. This actor wore a diamond-patterned outfit and performed tricks, or "histrionics".

Birds of crashing surf and turbulent streams, Harlequins adeptly negotiate rough waters that are beyond the scope of most birds. Purple Sandpipers are regular winter associates - the sandpipers foraging on wave-washed breakwalls, and the ducks riding in the crashing surf just beyond. Apparently, it is not uncommon to find Harlequins Ducks with mended bone breaks and fractures, the result of life in perilous surf.

Barrow's Goldeneye drake, my next Dornan commission. The blacker body and bold teardrop of white before the eye easily separate it from the Common Goldeneye. This species nests in cavities, and often frequents swift rivers and streams. It is quite the rarity in Ohio, with but seven or so records, all of them from Lake Erie. The last report dates to 1994, and we are probably due another soon. I've got some good vibes about Barrow's Goldeneye, and am hopeful that one will appear this January or February, probably at Eastlake Power Plant or Avon Lake Power Plant. Hey, one can only hope for the best, and a cooperative Barrow's Goldeneye in Ohio would be a state bird for most of us.

Drake Surf Scoter, which I just received this week. Love it. Scoters are cool, and will always rank high among my favorite ducks. Adult male Surf Scoters are sometimes known as "Skunkheads" due to the striking pattern of bold white splotches. Look at the bill on this thing! That's a clam-cracker, to be sure, and scoters feed heavily on molluscs so a strong sturdy bill is a real asset. The scientific name is Melanitta perspicillata, and the latter epithet means "spectacular", and refers to the colorful bulbous bill.

Note the hefty keel on this decoy, which is heavily weighted with a lead strip. Tim researches the work of other carvers and their work, and replicates working birds. Surf Scoters often inhabit rough waters, and the weighty keel is necessary to keep the decoy in good trim as it rides in the surf.

Scoters, especially Surf and Black, have become more frequent in the last decade plus along Lake Erie, no doubt capitalizing on all of the introduced Zebra and Quagga mussels, which didn't appear in Lake Erie until 1988.

Here all of my Dornan-carved decoys, gracing a prominent perch in my office. I've asked Tim and Laura for a drake Black Scoter next, and it will look great with these other decoys. Who knows, if they'll keep working with me, maybe I'll eventually amass all of the sea ducks, then we can start on the hens of all these species! Thanks Tim and Laura.

Fowl-choked Lead

It's been cold around here. Cold enough to put a glassy veneer of ice across the surface of some of the local rivers and lakes. But that makes for excellent waterfowling, whenever one finds the open leads. And that I did the other day, at a nearby quarry.

Open water patch, Watermark Quarry, and birds. Lots of birds. I absolutely love stumbling across mixed flocks of waterfowl. They are fun to pick through, and see who is who. And I just like watching ducks. This pack had seven species in its ranks, six of which are visible in this shot. I'll tell you the seventh right now: Lesser Scaup. See if you can recognize the others. Some, easy - some, not. At least in this shot. We'll quickly dissect the scene below.

Miss this one, and we'll honk at you. Canada Goose. No brainer, but rendered slightly more problematic with the 2004 splitting of the species into two, with the micro-honkers now separated as Cackling Geese. Good cacklers aren't too tough - they are just about Mallard-sized - but problems do occasionally arise with Arctic-nesting "Interior" Canada Geese, which are noticably smaller than these "Giant" Canada Geese. With the onset of cackling fever following the split, and the allure of a new tick for the lists, some of the smaller subspecies of Canada Geese are once in a while mistakenly called Cackling Geese. Anyway, no ID problems with the big boys shown above.

Nice white vertical slashes on these guys, eh? The dominant duck in this shot are Ring-necked Ducks. The drakes can be spotted a mile off by their distinctive patterns: mostly blackish with lighter gray sides, and that prominent white line just aft of the dark breast. Even the whitish ring around the bill stands out well from afar. Lovely beasts, these drake Ring-necks.

American Coots, sometimes known as Mudhens, can easily be seen here, interspersed among the Ring-necked Ducks. A member of the rail family, coots utterly shun the secretive ways of most of their brethren. They are fond of large water bodies in migration, especially in fall and early winter. They can be recognized by their charcoal-gray bodies with darker blackish head, and chalky-white bill. They resemble little blackish floating blobs .

Three Redhead, dead center. Two drakes, with a hen in front. From afar, Redhead drakes are not as black on the back as Ring-necked Ducks and lack the white slash. They have a more rounded head shape, and their noggin is of course a rusty-red color. They are also slightly bigger and noticably bulkier than Ring-necks. Weight is not taken into account often enough when considering bird ID. Sure, you can't visually weigh a bird from afar, but its poundage translates to bulk and the impression that it gives us. A Redhead weighs about one and a half times more than a Ring-necked Duck, and you can see their comparatively bulkier look in the above photo.

Pair of Mallards, drake left and hen right, standing on the ice. Familiarity breeds recognition, and we all certainly know Mr. Mallard. The hen could be confused with a few other species, but note the obvious white tail, even visible at rest. That separates it from a hen Gadwall, which is the most likely source of confusion in this sort of habitat at this time of year. Plus most female Gadwall have some white secondaries although they can be concealed when the bird is at rest.

Finally, here's a drake Gadwall, dead center, facing left. They are hardy and often occur in this sort of situation well into winter. The males are beautifully understated in shades of gray. With a good look, the vermiculation of their feathers is among the most ornate in the bird world. From afar, the male's black rump shows up well and clinches the ID. Note, too, how much more bouyant the Gadwall appears in comparison with the Ring-necked Ducks. Dabbling ducks float higher in the water, like corks, while diving ducks ride lower, like submarines that have surfaced.

I hope to come across many more scenes like this over the winter. Hey, if you can't have warblers go for waterfowl!

Randy Rogers and Iraq

One of the great things about being involved with the Ohio Ornithological Society is the opportunity to work with a really great bunch of forward-thinking folks. While our primary work is here in Ohio, and that's where the bulk of our effort goes, every now and then the chance arises to do something beneficial beyond our borders.

An OOS member, Randy Rogers, is a Major in the National Guard, and is currently deployed in Iraq. A one man tour de force, he hit the ground running over there, and has made incredible strides in getting fellow troops involved with birds and nature, as well as forging alliances with Iraqis with conservation being the initial common ground.

Ann Oliver, our wonderful and talented Cerulean newsletter editor, took up Randy's cause with a passion, and has spread word of his efforts far and wide. Because of her efforts, the OOS has raised about $2000 to date to further Randy's work, with more to come. And Ann's hard work led to a wonderful article in today's Columbus Dispatch by Suzanne Hoholik that does a terrrific job of detailing Major Rogers and his work in Iraq. I've posted the main story below, but I encourage you to visit the Dispatch website to get the full color version with photos. JUST CLICK HERE. Copies of Randy's informative and photo-filled newsletters are also available there.

Abundant thanks are due to Ann Oliver for her innovation and hard work, the entire board of the OOS for strongly supporting Randy's project, and to everyone who made donations or otherwise supported this effort. May a Masked Shrike land on your feeder, and may you never be cornered by a Honey Badger!

SCIENCE
Major Nature
National Guard officer takes his interest in birds, animals, plants to air base in Iraq
Tuesday, December 9, 2008 3:00 AM
By Suzanne Hoholik
THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH

Maj. Randel Rogers' official job duties include making sure that troops in western Iraq have all the ammunition, food, water and fuel they need.

But it's his unofficial duties that have attracted an audience on base, across Iraq and throughout the United States.

Rogers, an Ohio Army National Guard member at al-Asad Air Base in Iraq, is an amateur birder, a naturalist and the go-to guy for all questions of flora and fauna.

"Today, I got a pencil sketch of some kind of gerbil I'm trying to look up," Rogers said in a recent interview. "I've had people bring me pictures -- usually they don't pick the plants. Once in a while, they bring me a sample in a container, or (hand me) rocks."

Rogers, a logistics officer with the 371st Sustainment Brigade, was sent to the largest air base in Iraq in July. Although the country is only a war zone to many people, it represents something else to Rogers. He sees it as an opportunity to study species he's never seen.

Within a month, he had published the first of his online newsletters to educate (and entertain) fellow troops and people back in the United States about the plants, animals and insects he and others spot in Anbar province.

Rogers, a Far West Side resident, publishes "Al Asad au Natural" every few weeks.
He said he started the newsletter to answer questions he heard on base.

What kind of tree is that? What is that blooming out there? What's this animal? What's living under my CHU (container housing unit)?

The newsletter allows him to collectively answer questions, educate soldiers about their surroundings and, Rogers said, build morale among troops.

"It seems to help the families feel closer to their deployed solders," he said. "I get a lot of positive feedback from the soldiers because they're curious about what they see around them."

Rogers' newsletters are packed with information. There are features on Persian field mice, the golden jackal, the al-Asad oasis and the tamarisk tree.

And rocks.

"The geology here is a little different; there's not a lot of fossils here," Rogers said. "But we still find things like flint."

In every issue, there's some mention of or connection to Ohio.

And there always is something on birds, Rogers' passion. In "Birders' Corner," a regular feature, he identifies an interesting species and provides background.

He has recorded 70 species.

"What surprises a lot of people is the diversity," he said. "Sometimes the people aren't paying attention to the nature around you."

Rogers is not the first U.S. military member to write about nature in Iraq. After serving with the Connecticut National Guard in Iraq in 2004, Sgt. 1st Class Jonathan Trouern-Trend wrote the book Birding Babylon: A Soldi er ' s Journal from Iraq.

Rogers, 42, became interested in birds when he bought his house in Columbus. He set up a bird feeder in his yard and began to record the species that showed up. He's at 57.

He's done the same during a tour of duty in South Korea and during vacation and birding trips to places that include Japan, Mexico, England, Greece, Kuwait and Tanzania.

He joined the National Guard in 1995. Before that, he served five years in the Army Reserve and four years on active duty.

In Columbus, where he works full time for the Guard, he is a member of the Ohio Ornithological Society and volunteers at the Metro Parks.

Some of the people he's met through both groups are on his mailing list. So are soldiers, some of whom send it along to their families.

A number of people share it. He's received e-mails from readers as far-flung as New York and California.

Angela Greene, a seventh-grade science teacher at Tecumseh Middle School in New Carlisle in Clark County, is an avid reader. She said the father of one of her students is based at al-Asad.
Greene teaches biodiversity and ecology, and she said the newsletters help her students compare nature in Ohio and Iraq.

"We've been charting the different creatures he features and organisms he's writing about," she said.

Members of the ornithological society are thrilled that Rogers publishes the newsletter. They say "Al-Asad au Natural" gets soldiers interested in nature and helps Americans better understand Iraq's natural history.

"His personal mission of building bridges between us and Iraqi birders hopefully will bear wonderful, sweet fruit," said Ann Oliver, a Cincinnati resident and a member of the ornithological society. "He is a birding army of one."

But he has help. Rogers is working with Nature Iraq, a nongovernmental agency that is working to restore and protect Iraq's environment.

The group's officials praise the newsletters and distribute them to young people who work with them. They plan to put the newsletters up on the group's Web site.

"Maybe someday in the future, Randel's articles (will) become very important," Mudhafar Salim, an ornithologist with Nature Iraq, wrote in an e-mail.

Other Nature Iraq officials say that Rogers' newsletters give Americans a glimpse of the real Iraq, not the isolated areas torn by years of warfare.

"People are surprised to know that we have snow-covered mountains and a wetland larger than the Florida Everglades," Azzam Alwash, executive director of Nature Iraq, wrote in an e-mail.
In January, Rogers plans to go out on a birding survey with Nature Iraq officials in Iraq's northern Kurdish area.

And although his tour ends in April, he has applied for a job that would keep him there until February 2010.

He said there is a lot left to study.

To help, the Ohio Ornithological Society is raising money to buy cameras, binoculars and books on birds, plants, trees and flowers for Nature Iraq so the group can continue its work to restore the nation's environment.

The Ohio group has raised about $2,000.

Being able to see Iraq as a place just like the United States -- with birds, plants, animals and insects, rather than a battleground -- helps people halfway across the world connect to Iraqis.
These "are the great equalizer because people can identify with them," said Jim McCormac, president of the ornithological society and a state avian expert with the Ohio Division of Wildlife.
"It humanizes the environment a lot more because Iraq's a wonderful place from a natural-history perspective."

Donations can be mailed to Ohio Ornithological Society, Randy Rogers' Iraq Project, P.O. Box 14051, Columbus, 43214.

The group's Web site is www.ohiobirds.org.
shoholik@dispatch.com

Merlin

My lucky day. I stepped out of the beautiful chapel at Green Lawn Cemetery about 10 am this morning, after a meeting of our Board of Trustees. In a manner common to birders worldwide - convergent evolution, I suppose - I immediately did a quick once-over of the landscape. And there, not too distant, was a Merlin teed up prominently at the summit of the dead skeleton of a Norway Spruce. No shrinking violets, these boys (actually girl in this case).

After alerting those of my fellow board members who were handy and showing them the fierce little falcon, I ran around in a manner that was probably suggestive of that John Belushi scene in Animal House, except I darted from monument to monument rather than car to car, trying to sneak up on the bird. She could care less. Fifty feet up and with still warm breakfast, the Merlin had better things to do than worry about the antics of some bipedal clown hiding behind tombstones. Still, I kept a respectful distance.

Green Lawn Cemetery in winter. Three hundred and sixty acres, filled with massive trees and jumbo conifers. The place produces good birding year-round, and this is the third winter now that Merlins have returned here. Cemeteries like this somewhat replicate savannas or open taiga - habitats with large overstory trees but sparse vegetation at ground level. This sort of plant structure is what Merlins favor throughout much of their range. There are now Merlins wintering in several of Ohio's large cemeteries, and I will not be surprised if the species is nesting in the state before too long, probably in a large urban cemetery.

Here she is, with some hapless songbird clamped tightly in those vice-like talons. If you are looking for this Merlin, tune into the other birds. They may let you know it's around. There's something about seeing one of your compadres snatched out of the blue by a speeding feathered bullet and taken to a prominent perch for all to see, where it is gutted and ripped asunder, that upsets the songbird set. They will scold and utter distressed notes. While not a songbird if we must be accurate here, I noticed the Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers were rather beside themselves. Mewing and squalling, one of them was visibly distraught, over this killer's performance I suppose.

A chunk of flesh is separated and wolfed down. I've always had a thing for predatory birds, and what you see above is partly why. Like other raptors, the Merlin is a bird of action. It kills things, and to do so has evolved some very formidable flying skills. Think of the learning curve a young Merlin goes through. This is not like, say, a baby goldfinch. "I say, Sylvester, over here - this is the thistle feeder/sunflower/goldenrod. Now just repeat after daddy whilst I extract these nice little seeds. Good job, little chap, you'll be turning yellow in no time!"

The Merlin youth watch parents who resemble feathered Lamborghinis blowing into songbirds hard enough to blast feathers off in a puff of destructive violence. If life persists, the spine is cracked with the powerful bill. Chunks of bleeding meat are sheared from the prey, and the Merlin's bill runs red with gore from Senor Crossbill or whatever was unlucky enough to get caught in the crosshairs. No, this is no goldfinch. Then, the young Merlin must eventually take to the skies and hone the aerial skills that will make it an effective killer of birds. The skill set that must be acquired is a formidable one, and the fact that birds like Merlins can do what they do, and so well, is an endless source of fascination to me.

If you are in the Columbus area, I hope that you can get to Green Lawn and perhaps cross paths with our Merlin in residence.

Lichens Alive

Along with Ray Showman and Brian Gara, I made an expedition into southeast Ohio's rugged hill country today. We had a great time, and made many interesting observations and finds, until the snow and ice forced us out. Today brought the worst winter weather yet, and in many areas the roads were ice sheets.

But our main targets were lichens, and for the tree-dwelling species at least, snow and winter are not obstacles to observation. They look just fine at this time of year.

Along the banks of Handley Branch, a small stream in Lawrence County. The multi-trunked Silver Maple, Acer saccharinum, in the foreground was liberally festooned with lichens, including a very rare species. We walked as much of this habitat as we could before increasing snowfall started us worrying as to whether we'd be able to navigate back out the hilly gravel lane that brought us here.

Several factors probably conspire to create an Eden for lichens at this spot. The slight difference in micro-climate caused by the narrow, low-lying stream valley and increased humidity due to water from the creek is one. The Silver Maples seem to provide an excellent substrate for growth.

And, maybe, the active presence of that giant paddle-tailed rodent the beaver.

I had never tied lichens and beaver together until today. But lichens flourish where there is lots of sunlight penetration, and one of the big, furry fellows had an active slash and skid operation going on here. It's possible that as beavers fell streamside trees and create a more open grovelike situation, the increased sunlight penetration to the remaining timber creates a dreamland for the lichens. At least that's what it looked like and the scattered maples were thickly encrusted. In places where the forest was denser and less beaver-manipulated, lichen abundance dropped noticably.

This maple trunk is heavily laden with six or eight species, including the very rare beard lichen Usnea substerilis. This species is new to Ohio and these trees support the only known Ohio population thus far found. Ray, Dan Boone, Jim Decker and I had found it here back in April. Or more accurately, Ray found it and recognized it while the rest of us looked on in semi-ignorant awe. This trunk also supports Green Shield Lichen, Flavoparmelia caparata, Ruffle Lichens, genus Parmotrema, and some species in the genus Hypnotrachyna and Punctelia. And more.

In this video, Ray Showman briefly explains the workings of a lichen. They are fascinating organisms, the result of a pairing between an alga and a fungus. The fauna associated with lichens is poorly known, and if someone wanted to describe new species of insects they'd probably do well to study lichens. Who knows what all creatures have evolved a specialized lifestyle attached to lichens. There is no doubt that lichens are often heavy in bugs, and bark-creeping birds pick through them seeking prey.

This is Bushy Beard Lichen, Usnea strigosa, one of three species in this distinctive genus at the Lawrence County site. The specimen in the above photo is in reproductive mode; it sports apothecia, or fruiting bodies. They are the slightly concave round appendages, two of which are especially prominent at the bottom of the lichen.

This is the heavy hitter, Usnea substerilis, of which this specimen and the others at the site - about a dozen in all - make for the first Ohio record. There is no question that lichens are obscure and overlooked. Few people seek them out, and few people can identify them. However, there have been enough authorities looking around the state over the decades to paint a somewhat accurate picture of their status. And these beard lichens are among the most conspicuous of the group, and with only ten or so species to be concerned with in these parts, it's not like one will be overloaded trying to master Usnea.

Yet no one had reported this one. I suspect it will prove to be a localized rarity, but I'd bet other populations await discovery. Indeed, while driving back we passed along a very similar habitat, and a quick scan of some large creekside trees through binoculars revealed more beard lichens. By then, it was snowing pretty good and the roads were skating rinks so we forged ahead. I'm sure Ray will be back there next year, though, and add to our database of lichen knowledge.

Invasion of the X-bills

The chittering horde has arrived. Bedecked in pinks and greens, with bill tips crossed over as if torqued with a pair of vice-grips, the White-winged Crossbills have invaded Ohio. No one is complaining.

Indeed, few winter finches cause the stir amongst birders that crossbills do. Doesn't matter if they are White-winged or Red (we've had a few of the latter, too) - either species is exciting. Of course, the Reds bring their own set of problems. It seems as if there are eight "types", someday to be species? If these entities are ever foolishly split, and suddenly we've got eight "species" of Red Crossbill roaming the landscape, crossbill madness will ensue among the listers and all sorts of crossbill experts will arise from the mire of dubious taxonomic decisionry. Have fun, bird records committees. But that's another story.

Yesterday, Aaron Boone found one White-winged Crossbill at Green Lawn Cemetery in Columbus. Today, Bernie Master found about three dozen there. I suspect they all came in today, as an increasing number of crossbills sweeps south of the Great Lakes from their boreal forest haunts. Bernie took this outstanding photo of a female attacking the cone of an Eastern Hemlock, and the photos that follow.

The mandible tips of crossbill's bills do just what the name says: they cross. These contorted beaks enable the birds to more effectively pop the scales from the cones of conifers and get at the seed sheltered within. They no doubt play a vital role in the ecology of the vast boreal forest in terms of dispersing the fruit of spruce, fir, larch, hemlock, and pine. In the scheme of things, the conifer-dominated northern forests are quite young, much of the area that they occupy having been steamrolled by glaciation some 10,000 years ago.

Thus, the crossbills are still assorting themselves and actively evolving as they nomadically exploit the various species of cone-bearing trees. Think Darwin's Finches of the north. Conifer fruit varies greatly, from the dainty little cones of hemlocks to the massive mini-pineapples produced by White Pine. So, the crossbills - Reds in particular - are hard at work evolving a bill for all sizes. Compounding the madness is that all conifer species are cyclical in their cone production - lean year, lean year, boom year, lean year - or similar cycles. This probably accounts for the nomadic wanderings of crossbills, and their occasional en masse peregrinations to the south. A further wrench in our understanding of how all this works is that the same species of conifer might have boom production in one part of its range, and bust production in another.

An awesome shot by Dr. Master. We can all only wish we had been there. A parcel of crossbills descended to a puddle to bath, and probably take grit. The males are a rather extraordinary pinkish hue, especially when young - in my opinion, not only the showiest of the crossbills, but one of the best-looking North American passerines. They are great fun to watch. Social in the extreme, crossbills are often very tame and allow close approach. They remind me of little parrots as they clamber about the branches, tearing cone scales off and sometimes using their bills to help pull themselves about.


Crossbills are talkers, too. Non-feeding flocks emit a constant twittering, and that's how most of them are detected initially. Be aware, though - intensely feeding birds are often silent, the only sound being created is that of the pop and rip of cone scales being shucked, along with the visual of little cone shards drifting down from above.

This female is allowing us a close view of her crossed mandible tips. A great shot by Bernie here. They give their beaks a workout. One bird can allegedly dig out and eat a few thousand seeds a day. Imagine what several dozen birds might do to a stand of hemlock. Multiply all of the crossbills throughout the boreal forest and it is easy to see why they play such an integral role in northern forest ecology.

The individual above displays the least commonly seen type of White-winged Crossbill bill. The lower tip crosses under the upper to the left in this bird. Probably 2/3rds of White-winged Crossbills have the opposite arrangement - lower crosses to the right.


Beautiful map by Ethan Kistler of the White-winged Crossbill situation to date in Ohio, but I suspect Ethan will be making regular updates to the map. Looks like over 300 birds reported thus far, and they'll be many more to come, I'm sure. We haven't had an invasion like this for some time.

If you've got a park or cemetery nearby with lots - or even a few - big ornamental conifers, especially hemlock, go check it out. You might be rewarded with some of these parrotlike pink crossbills.