Fairy Shrimp

Photo by Gary Meszaros

A tiny fairy shrimp, genus Eubranchipus, drifts in the water column. This is an amazing shot of one of our strangest creatures, and I thank Gary Meszaros for sending it along. It takes specials skills and equipment to make photographs such as this one.

Fairy shrimp are fairly common in our vernal pools, but it's easy to miss them. An adult might tape out at one-half inch in length or so, and they're nearly translucent. They are indeed distant relatives of the shrimp that grace your dinner plate; both are in the Class Crustacea.

Now is the time to look for these tiny swimmers. When vernal pools are in their flooded springtime glory, the fairy shrimp almost magically come to life and occasionally good numbers of them can be observed wafting through the water. They definitely prefer cool water. Once the vernal pool warms to 60 degrees or so they begin to vanish. There are apparently a few different species in Ohio; I'm not sure which one this is.

Oh, what beautiful stalked eyes you have! Photoreceptors in those eyes tend to draw the animal in the direction of light, so shining a flashlight into the water at night sometimes lures the shrimp. Fairy shrimp are predators, feeding upon tiny invertebrate animal life and sometimes algae and decaying plant material. In turn, the shrimp stoke the discerning palates of Wood Ducks, other birds, and larger insects such as predacious diving beetles.

This shrimp is a female, as evidenced by this brood pouch filled with cysts. The cysts are embryonic shrimp that are encased in a hard shell. These tiny shrimp-to-be are rather indestructable and can survive passage through a duck's digestive system, dessication, and extremes of heat or cold. The cysts of related species have been found buried in soil, and estimated at 10,000 years of age. Some of these ancient fairy shrimp cysts have proven to be viable!

Vernal pools, ephemeral as they usually are, are amazing habitats tht burst with all manner of life during their brief glory. This incredible fairy shrimp photo is from the brand new book Animals of Ohio's Ponds and Vernal Pools, by David Fitzsimmons and Gary Meszaros. It'll soon be available, and if you have an interest in natural history, you'll do well to get a copy. Ordering information HERE.

The running of the salamanders

A cold American Toad creeps across the asphalt of a rural western Ohio road. Finally, last night I escaped to the great rainy outdoors to have a go at salamandering. We've already had some good nights - reasonably warm and rainy - and I'm sure that many of our amphibians have already made their way to the vernal pools to mate and release their spawn.

As I'm sure most of the sophisticated readers of this blog know, come the first warm wet nights of very early spring, amphibians move en masse overland to breeding pools. To me, catching these slimy creep-crawlies in the act is a pleasurable rite of spring. And we scored last night, but not in a very major way. It was wet enough, with thoroughly saturated ground and intermittent drizzle all evening. A bit on the cool side at 45 degrees, but well within the operating conditions of our salamanders and other amphibians.

But there wasn't much to see in tried and true amphibian hotspots, and the relatively few animals that I did find came out late; around 10:30 pm. By then, the bewitching hour was drawing near, as I had to get up and go to work today. But some finds were made...

Always a surefire crowd-pleaser, a Spotted Salamander, Ambystoma maculatum, hightails it across the road. This site sports wooded vernal pools on either side of the road, and fortunately for our viscous friends, vehicular traffic is light. Nonetheless, I always find plenty of roadkill on these forays, and that's sad. Bisecting high-quality salamander habitat with roads is an insidious impact that results in sometimes enormous mortality of salamanders and other amphibians. Depending on traffic volume, I suspect that over time entire salamander populations are destroyed by repeated carnage year after year.

This Spotted Salamander was a big boy; about as large as they come. Spotteds are in the genus Ambystoma: the fabled mole salamanders. For most of the year, they dwell subterraneously, pushing through the damp soil and feeding on various invertebrates. When triggered by various cues in early spring, most mole salamander species burst from the soil and take up an overland march to ancestral breeding pools. Catch it just right and hit a prime spot, and you might find hundreds if you're willing to brave dark, rainy and cool conditions.

An odd duck, this gal. It is a so-called "unisexual" salamander and the area where I photographed her has many. This animal and her ilk are the product of longtime hybridization between several species of mole salamanders. The parentage involves Blue-spotted Salamander, Ambystoma laterale, Smallmouth Salamander, A. texanum, Jefferson Salamander, A. jeffersonianum, and sometimes Tiger Salamander, A. tigrinum.

Almost all if not all unisexuals are female, and individuals have extra sets of chromosomes. The genetic makeup of these beasts varies wildly, as does their appearance. This individual is particularly well markedwith porcelain-blue flecking on its sides, a sure sign of Blue-spotted Salamander genes. I'm guessing that Smallmouth genes are present, too, and who knows what else.

How these things reproduce and carry on is not well understood. I've seen their egg masses, and nearly all of the eggs appear to be only partially developed. Apparently some of them must be fertile and hatch, though. Somehow the unisexual saamander manages to pick up the sperm of fertile "pure" males of one of the species that I mentioned above. I don't pretend to understand the unisexual salamander phenomenon; if you do, feel free to comment and enlighten.

Weird stuff. Well, unisexual or not, mole salamanders are things of great beauty and interest and seeing them is always a treat. Friday night is looking like conditions could be good for another run, and if it is I'll probably be bck out and looking for the mammoth Tiger Salamanders.

Turkey Vultures

Today is "Buzzard Day" in Hinckley, Ohio. This now legendary rite of spring features the Turkey Vulture, and its return to northeastern Ohio. Their return is symbolic of winter's demise and warmer days to come for the snow-encrusted igloo-dwellers who live up there.

Ringmaster Bob Hinkle, chief organizer of the affair, mounts his perch in the pre-dawn hours, often surrounded by dozens of buzzard enthusiasts. They eagerly await the first vulture, and its identity must be confirmed with an official confirmation from Mr. Hinkle. They never fail to spot one of these macabre masters of the air.

Of course, various ignorami have the temerity to report vultures in the vicinity of Hinckley prior to March 15 and Buzzard Day. These bat-blind fools must be looking through fogged up binoculars and using hopelessly smudged and water-stained Sibleys as a reference. Bob Hinkle's research has clearly shown that pre-Buzzard Day "vultures" are Creagles - hybrids between crows and eagles. They do look a bit like buzzards from afar, to those of unsound mind and 20/400 vision.

Anyway, I was at the other end of the state last Saturday, where sighting of pre Ides of March vultures can be legitimate. And I saw some. Reality Check: some could construe the following photos as somewhat gruesome.


A platoon of Turkey Vultures frolicks in a Pike County field. They are making a meal of a road-killed white-tailed deer.

As a young lad, I would occasionally lie on my back and watch the vultures languidly floating high on thermals. Their flight was so effortless and graceful that it made up for the birds' awkwardness when grounded. What a thing, thought I, to be able to fly like that.

And so it would be - if you didn't have to partake of their dietary fare. Vultures dive into unspeakably nasty roadkill and such that could gag a normal person at 50 yards. I don't think the ability to soar like an eagle - or creagle - would be adequate compensation.

First butterflies of spring

A worn and tattered Mourning Cloak butterfly, Nymphalis antiopa, rests on oak leaf litter in southern Ohio. This species overwinters as an adult, riding out the winter in sheltered nooks and crannies. Come a decently warm spell, and out they come.

I made a wide-ranging jaunt through southern Ohio last Saturday, when temperatures peaked in the high 60's. One noteworthy ridgetop carpeted with chestnut oak had a small flurry of Mourning Cloaks; perhaps 4 or 5 flitting about. I also saw a first-of-year Comma, another species that winters in its adult form. Interestingly, like the Mourning Cloak, these two species also range broadly across Europe and Eurasia.

The appearance of butterflies is a surefire sign of spring and warmer days.

Another owl goes postal!

A red morph Eastern Screech-owl peers from a Toledo mailbox. As noted on the box, this owl has been approved by the Postmaster General. I am beginning to wonder if these owls are traveling to and fro from Hogwarts, carrying mail for Harry Potter and crew.

Since posting the last postal owl, I've heard from a few other people regarding screech-owls that have taken a shine to mailboxes. The great photo above comes courtesy of Mary Kay Solt, who snapped the little fellow in her Toledo neighborhood about a month ago.

Thanks to Mary Kay for sharing her work, and to Cathy Wilson for making me aware of this mail owl. Now, if anyone finds a Snowy Owl crammed in one of these boxes, PLEASE let me know!

Spring wildflowers

I made a long rambling cruise through southern Ohio yesterday, ostensibly to check for waterfowl on the extensive flooded fields along the lower Scioto River. There were plenty of ducks - and lots of flooding - and I'll post something on that later.

With temperatures pushing 70 degrees, it was the first truly warm and springlike day, and I knew that some of our earliest flowers would be in bloom. So, some special side trips were made to secret little Ohio River Valley hotspots. In these rocky glens, the stones and southern exposure create little pockets that heat up earlier than their surroundings and stimulate the local plants to get a jumpstart on the rest.

This one wasn't hard to find in sunny sandy and gravelly spots. It's Whitlow-grass, Draba verna, a non-native member of the mustard family. A ubiquitous denizen of open waste areas, the plant is a tiny annual. This one might have towered an inch or so skyward. Small as it may be, these little mustards have a cetain charm to them.

It didn't take long to stumble across lemony drifts of Coltsfoot, Tussilago farfara, festooning roadside banks. This dandelionlike member of the sunflower family is a commonly established Eurasian weed with us, and a true harbinger of spring. It pushes forth naked scapes topped by the beautiful flowers starting about now. Later, once the flowers have largely died away, the leaves will emerge.

Coltsfoot flowers are quite showy upon close inspection. The myriad narrow rays encircle a little island of disk flowers. When in full fruit, the spherical plumes created by the seeds and their attendant fluff resemble dandelions on steroids.

In a few sun-drenched agricultural fields, there were little mats of greenery bespeckled with dots of blue. You must look closely to notice these plants - they are quite easy to pass right by. It is yet another of the long-established Eurasian weeds: Smooth Speedwell, Veronica polita. Some tag it as "gray field speedwell". Personally, I find that cumbersome name about two yards longer than the actual plant.

All speedwells, native or not, are things of great beauty when carefully inspected. This flower, photographed from the patch in the preceding photo, is so tiny that a dozen or so could be placed on a quarter. Such miniscule "weeds" are quite adept at dispersing themselves, as their seeds readily adhere to nearly anything and thus are quickly transported far and wide. It should be noted that the definition of a "weed" is in the eye of the beholder. When seen like this, it's hard to think of Smooth Speedwell as a weed.

A little white ball nestled in a cup of sepals will soon spread its petals and become instantly recognizable to wildflower enthusiasts.

Hepatica, Hepatica nobilis. While not yet peak, some sheltered rocky glens were sporting many flowering specimens, including these stark white ones. A member of the diverse buttercup family, Hepatica flower color can range from pinkish to porcelain blue to rich violet.

Once, our Hepatica were considered to be two species: round-lobed (H. americana) and sharp-lobed (H. acutiloba). The alleged differences had to do with the leaf shape, but these characters don't hold up well and it isn't hard to find intermediate specimens. In a fit of common sense, botanists decided to lump our North American plants with their apparently essentially identical Eurasian counterparts. Bravo!

Always a treat, the White Trout Lilies, Erythronium albidum, had begun to bloom. There are places where vat carpets of these small plants will carpet wooded slopes. We have another common representative of this genus in Ohio, the Yellow Trout Lily, E. americanum. It usually follows a few weeks later.

Trout lilies rise from deeply buried bulbs, and are long-lived perennials. I suspect that some specimens, if they live a charmed life, can live for a very longtime.

Finally, the true Harbinger-of-spring, sometimes known as Salt-and-pepper, Erigenia bulbosa. This Lilliputian (there you go Janet) member of the parsley family pushes and pries its way through the leaf litter of the March forest, often in profusion on floodplains. Most plants are so small that the casual woodland stroller is certain to miss them; they are so small that some are hard to see from an upright position. The specimen pictured above was gargantuan, perhaps two or three inches in height.

The plants in this blog are the true vanguards of spring. Every week will see new members joining their ranks, and the wildflower army will reach full force in late April/early May in southern Ohio. That's why we hold Flora-Quest then, in the heart of Ohio's greatest forest, Shawnee. If you want to see scads of flowers and learn a lot more about them, join us. Details are HERE.

The Postal Owl

I respect and admire mail carriers. Their job is real work - the delivery of all kinds of mail, in all kinds of conditions, year-round. And I am quite glad to say, the U.S. Postal Service has never lost one of my letters or packages, and I send a lot of stuff out. I find that rather remarkable.

Anyway, in the course of executing their duties, mail carriers encounter lots of stuff. Dogs, probably the occasional irate person, ice, floods, snow, you name it. I'm sure that, over the course of a career, a carrier could probably write a book about their experiences.

But there's always the chance for something new and completely unexpected, as Washington County carrier Tammy Taylor discovered recently.

Photo courtesy U.S. Postal Service

When Tammy wheeled up to one of her customer's boxes and reached out to stuff in the mail, this little fellow was glaring fiecely from within. An Eastern Screech-Owl! Screech-owls are cavity-dwellers, both for nesting and often for roosting. They are somewhat notorious for turning up in odd places.

Photo courtesy U.S. Postal Service

Eastern Screech-Owls come in two color forms, correctly termed "morphs": red, and gray. Sometimes there is an intermediate browinsh morph as well. Red morphs tend to become more numerous southward and are the dominant morph encountered in southern Ohio, and that's what this bird is.

I really want to thank Tammy Taylor for photographing the owl, and Kathy Lucas for sending them my way. No word on what Tammy did with the mail. Who knows, maybe this is a "mail owl" and took the material on its next leg. That's what owls were used for in Harry Potter (yes, I read them all).

The U.S. Postal Service may have to restate its position: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night nor savage little owls stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds".*

*The U.S. Postal Service actually has no official motto. The one above is often attributed to the Service, but apparently originated some 2,500 years ago with Herodotus, a Greek historian. It was engraved prominently on one of their buildings back in the late 1800's and has been associated with th Postal Service ever since.