Hedgehog, cute as can be, and Billy Gibbons

A North African Hedgehog, Atelerix algirus, looking like some sort of bizarre cocoon with a face. I had the good fortune to cross paths with one of these strange beasts on a recent excursion, and just had to share some photos. Normally I avoid blogging about captive fare such as this, but this little critter is just too cool. This one was part of a small collection at an animal research and conservation facility.

North African Hedgehogs are indigenous to the northernmost rim of Africa, and apparently are plentiful in the right areas. When threatened, they instantly roll into a perfect ball, and all one sees is an orbicular spiny mass. When wrapped up tight, the hedgehog resembles a spiky baseball. In this shot, the animal just poked his face out, to see what's going on.

I really know next to nothing about hedgehogs, and from a quick perusal of various literature sources, this little guy may actually be a cross with the aforementioned North African Hedgehog and one of the other species, such as the Four-toed Hedgehog, Atelerix albiventris. Whatever its lineage, the little animal is cute as a wink. Hedgehogs resemble porcupines of the Americas, but are quite unrelated, being most closely allied to shrews.

Many predators would no doubt enjoy noshing on a tasty little hedgehog, hence the evolution of the spiny exterior and the ability to instantly transform into a largely impenetrable jumble of stiff spinyness. Those spines really aren't that stiff to the touch, though - certainly nothing like a porcupine's quills. To up their odds of predator avoidance, wild hedgehogs typically do their foraging at night.

It didn't take this little fellow long to decide his new visitors were not going to eat him, and he quickly thrashed himself from his tightly wrapped ball. If all hedgehogs are like this one, they're a bit on the spastic side, and one strange movement could send him back into a tightly packaged sphere in a nanosecond.

Yes, it does have legs, and quite the snout. Hedgehogs are primarily insectivores, and use that Pinnocchio nose for rooting out bugs, although apparently they are not selective and will eat nearly anything they can choke down.

Once on its feet, the hedgehog actually looks like a mammal, albeit an odd mammal.

And now I know where ZZ Top's guitarist, Billy Gibbons, got the inspiration for that goofy cap. Hey, peace brother, any PR is good PR, as they say.

Rick Nirschl discovers new U.S. dragonfly

Photo: Rick Nirschl

Rick's done it again. Mr. Nirschl, of Toledo, Ohio, made the above photograph last Tuesday, December 18th, in Mission, Texas. Rick has taken to migrating south to the Rio Grande Valley of Texas for the winter, and just as he routinely does here in his home state, he makes amazing finds in the Lone Star State.

The dragonfly in the photo is a tropical species of dragonlet known as Erythrodiplax fervida. I wish I could also cite a good English name for the beast, but it doesn't seem to have one. Rick was working the grounds around the National Butterfly Center when he spotted this dragonlet, which was unfamiliar to him. He didn't know it with good reason - no Erythrodiplax fervida had previously been seen in the United States! Within a day or so Rick had figured it out and Voila! Another new species for the United States.

This isn't Rick Nirschl's first major Texas find. Back in February of 2008, he discovered the first U.S. record of Slender Clubskimmer, Brechmorhoga praecox. In March 2009 he outdid himself by discovering a previously undescribed species of dragonfly in the Big Thicket area of Texas, which has since been named the Sarracenia Spiketail, Cordulegaster sarracenia. And Rick shall forever be immortalized in the bird world by finding the first U.S. record of Bare-throated Tiger-Heron at Bentsen State Park in the Rio Grande Valley on December 21, 2009. The heron lingered well into 2010, and was seen by scores of birders. CLICK HERE for photos of that bird.

Congratulations once again to Rick on a fantastic find! If you're interested, Rick and I are co-leading an expedition for the Toledo Naturalists' Association on July 20th, and it should be quite the natural history free-for-all. We'll be visiting some very cool locales near Lake Erie, and all of the details are RIGHT HERE.

Snow Goose, at cement plant

As we have for quite a few years now, Dr. Bernie Master and myself headed afield last Sunday to scour our turf for the Columbus Christmas Bird Count. This annual foray takes us into some of Columbus, Ohio's most industrial terrain. The view above is from the long drive back to the Columbus Impound Lot, where illegal parkers and other motorized mischief-makers have their vehicles towed. The impound lot was recently moved to this site, and we like it because we can now get access to this huge stand of Giant Reed, Phragmites australis, and other wetland plants. We found Swamp Sparrows in there, and last year a Rough-legged Hawk was present - a very hard bird to find on this count.

Not far away is the vast grounds of the Anderson Cement Plant, and the Anderson folks always kindly allow us access. While this site looks rather bleak, we routinely find interesting birds here. There are some quarries with fowl, and the mighty Scioto River flows past. We fully expect to someday find a Northern Wheatear in the extensive barren gravelly waste grounds such as above, but have decided not to hold our breath waiting to discover Ohio's 4th record of that Mega.

If you read this blog very often, you know that I am rather spoiled when it comes to field expeditions. A great many of my trips are to fairly pristine habitats which are often rare and unusual places filled with interesting flora and fauna. I don't rue my time spent in urban jungles, though. It's always interesting to see how birds adapt to highly modified landscapes. In fact, there is a very cool bird in this photo. Just beyond that yellow excavator in the distance loafed a flock of Canada Geese, the first that we had seen on this day. It's always worthwhile to make more than a cursory investigation of such flocks, as rarer geese such as Cackling Goose or Greater White-fronted Goose have a penchant for hanging with their chin-strapped brethren.

Sure enough, it was BINGO! time! A white blob stood out like a sore thumb, and our optics quickly revealed it to be a Snow Goose, Chen caerulescens, which is a dandy bird for the Columbus Christmas Bird Count. The animal did not seem put off in the least by its surroundings of heavy equipment, slag piles, and nearby railroad tracks, even though such haunts are a far cry from the untrammeled wilds of the Arctic tundra where it was spawned.

The sooty dusting on its crown, nape, and back and dark bill and legs reveal this to be a juvenile Snow Goose, pipped from the egg just this summer. Of course, it is a "Snow" Snow Goose, or the white morph of this strongly dimorphic species. The other form is known as the "Blue Goose", and it is quite different indeed. Blues are mostly slaty-brown with a white head - they look like a completely different species. And indeed, until 1983 they were considered separate species.

NOTE: The forms of the Snow Goose are often referred to as "phases"; i.e. "I saw a blue phase Snow Goose". The definition of phase: a particular appearance or state in a regularly recurring cycle of changes. A Snow Goose does not change forms, however - it is either blue or white and will remain that way throughout its life. Stable forms such as in this species, or the Rough-legged Hawk, are correctly termed "morphs". Morph means: "Each of several variant forms of an animal or plant."

Ohio lies between major flyways for the Snow Goose and we don't get very many. Singles or small flocks are the rule, with occasional exceptions. The exception of all exceptions occurred on October 25, 1952 in Mahoning County. On that date, stunned observers tallied massive flocks totalling some 150,000 birds within a two hour period.

"Golden Eagle" attacks baby! Not

I can't even bring myself to write about this latest YouTube silliness that duped about eight million people into believing that a "Golden Eagle" roared out of the sky and snatched up a toddler. How it is that people believe such stuff is beyond me; maybe I am too cynical... Anyway, if you somehow, SOMEHOW, managed to miss this latest globally viral video hoax, CLICK HERE.

The hoaxers 'fess up HERE, allowing babies worldwide to breathe a bit easier...

Crow roost

I found myself in this spot, in rural Jackson County, Ohio, last Saturday at twilight. I was down there to cover my turf for the Beaver Valley Christmas Bird Count, so-named for the sprawling metropolis of Beaver several miles to the south. That forested ridge across the field is one of many in the area. The topography of this immediate region still shows the effects of a massive river system long obliterated by past glaciation. The mighty Teays River, which arose near the present day Great Smoky Mountains National Park, coursed northward and into Ohio. Its main channel and side tributaries left behind broad flat valleys, such as above, interspersed with sharp ridges.

If you are an American Crow, these razorback ridges make great roosting spots. The birds can see everything for some distance in every direction, and potential enemies have no chance of sneaking up undetected. Click the photo to expand it. All of those specks are crows, and this is but one tiny part of the local roost. Such an aggregation of crows is known by the sinister term "a murder of crows".

Crows have roosted in this immediate vicinity for a long time, probably as long as I've been doing this count and that's been 15 years or so. It's a spectacle, watching all of the birds return from far and wide at sunset. The air is filled with a cacophony of caws as the birds greet each other and otherwise interact, constantly jabbering as crows will do. Occasionally a collective nervous tremor ripples through the flock, and they briefly rise into the sky as of one mind, their chatter rising to a fevered pitch and totally dominating the surrounding landscape.

 

This video offers a mild taste of the ambience of the roost. I did not reach the roost site until a great many of the birds were already in residence, and didn't have time to thoroughly explore the area to tally the roosting zone in its entirety before nightfall. I turned in an estimate of 7,000 birds, but there are far more than that in the area. Next year I intend to get to this spot sooner, and attempt to make a more accurate accounting of these crows.

Christmas Bird Count season

Jackson Lake, Jackson County, Ohio. A brief respite from gray skies and drizzle allowed me a scenic shot. Minutes earlier, a rainbow arced across the sky, but I was not in a good position to capture that scene.

I was down in the Hill Country last Saturday to participate in the Beaver Valley Christmas Bird Count, just as I have for many years now. Yesterday, in stark contrast to the beauty of this scene, Bernie Master and I covered our turf for the Columbus CBC. Our terrain there is mostly highly urbanized or industrial, yet we managed a number of interesting finds.

As usual, my camera was in tow and I recorded some things of interest. More to follow...

A brief essay on the House Centipede

The Columbus Dispatch

House centipedes creepy but cool

 

Sunday December 16, 2012

NATURE

Jim McCormac
 

You and your family aren’t the only animals in your house. Many other critters lurk in the hidden nooks and crannies of your dwelling. These creepy-crawlies are often out of sight and out of mind, but every now and then, one bursts forth in spectacular fashion to remind us we share quarters with some undesirable “camp followers.”

 

As humans have marched about the globe, we’ve unwittingly carted along all manner of hangers-on — creatures that are so adapted to Homo sapiens that they rarely, if ever, live out of our fold.

Depending on your inclinations, one of the coolest or creepiest of these unwanted domestics is the house centipede ( Scutigera coleoptrata). If one of these many-legged arthropods scuttles out of the woodwork, it is sure to be noticed. Its creep factor is enormous. House centipedes don’t walk or run as much as they glide, sort of like a spooky undulating feather magically levitating across the wall. They aren’t tiny, either — a magnificent specimen can stretch the tape to 2 inches. That is big enough to elicit shrieks of terror.

Fortunately, house centipedes usually do their wandering under cover of darkness, and thus seldom clue in homeowners to their presence. If you’re really curious, drop down to the basement with a flashlight and start probing the dark recesses of crawl spaces and junky corners. You’ve got a good chance of unearthing a house centipede.

Centipedes are predators and adept at running down and slaying prey. When on the hunt, the centipede constantly tests the road ahead with its sensitive antennae. When a victim is sensed, the many-legged monster pounces and injects potent venom via a set of modified legs. If there is an upside to this horror show, it is the fact that the centipede is generally offing other undesirables such as ants, bedbugs, spiders, silverfish and cockroaches. If we continue with an optimistic outlook, we can also be glad that house centipedes aren’t 4 feet long and eyeing us hungrily.

House centipedes originally hailed from the Mediterranean region but hopped into people’s baggage long ago. They’re good travelers and now occur throughout much of the world, although almost always close to people. While these centipedes can flourish outdoors, they aren’t particularly cold-tolerant, and autumn’s chill drives them back indoors with us.

That soft tickle across your cheek that snaps you from sleepy reverie in the wee hours? You don’t want to know.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac. blogspot.com.