An orgy of toads

I don't mean for the title of the post to sound x-rated, but there's just no better way to describe a pool full of lusty American Toads in full mating fervor. Last night was warm, wet, and rainy, so I decided to head out to some of my favorite wetlands in Logan County to see what was hopping. I stopped along the way to meet up with Bellefontainite Cheryl Erwin, and much appreciated her company. Making decent images in pitch-black rainy conditions is challenging, to say the least, and having someone along to manipulate lights and whatnot is hugely helpful.

 

The salamanders had apparently mostly made their runs to the breeding ponds. We saw a few "unisexual" hybrids (more on those, HERE), and one road-killed Spotted Salamander. Although the sallies may have done their thing, Shift II, the frogs and toads, were in full swing. Spring Peepers peeped everywhere, and the raspy grates of Western Chorus Frogs were plentiful. The odd underwater snores of Northern Leopard Frogs were heard here and there, and while not much in tune yet, we saw several Green Frogs and Bullfrogs.

 

But it was the warty old toads that stole the show.

 

A male American Toad, Bufo americanus, in full song. Normally shy and recalcitrant, toads come out of their shell when it's time to woo the girls. We happened along a shallow roadside wetland that was, literally, hopping with toads. A pool full of dozens of toads caught up in the lust of spring is a spectacle nearly beyond belief. Males, such as the one above, rise from the water and deliver their long semi-melodic trills while others dash madly about like synchronized swimmers on a mushroom trip. Peepers and chorus frogs add to the din, and the amphibious soundscape is quite deafening.

Quite the charmers, these stud toads. Note his chalky-blue eyeliner, which (I believe) fades after the breeding season. If a female, enchanted by the male's aria, approaches, watch out! The hormone-saturated toad will often shoot out after her, and grab the female in quite the Cro-Magnon style. Sometimes a tussle ensues, and she breaks away, possibly to look for a more mannerly toad. Finding other suitors is no problem - there are trilling toads everywhere.

If a match is made, this is the result - amplexus. Amplexus is herpetological-speak for the act of mating, and once paired the happy couple can remain in position for a long time. The male (he's the one on top and if you didn't know that I feel sorry for you) is noticeably smaller than his mate.

The ultimate result of a toad mating frenzy are these long strands of helically twisted toad eggs. The blackish embryonic toadlets are visible through the opaque matrix that forms the eggs, and soon the pond will be awash with toad tadpoles. Those that are lucky enough to run the gauntlet of predators that lurk in such places will eventually rise from the water, and with luck live a good long life.

Bee flies

If you've spent much time afield, investigating spring wildflowers, you've doubtless noticed the strange beast shown here. These odd insects suggest animals far removed from their lineage, such as little hummingbird moths, or bees. Neither, nor.

This is a bee fly. Yes, a fly. I photographed the one above a few years back, as it drew nectar from the staminate (male) flowers of Pussy-toes, Antennaria plantaginifolia. Bee flies are rather hard to photograph when on the roll, as they are awesome fliers and quick to dart and dash about.

On my recent trip into the depths of the I'on Swamp in South Carolina, I happened along a sandy, sunny woodland gap that had several bee flies on the wing. So, I devoted some ten minutes of my life trying to get decently clear images of the insects in flight. A few of them came out; most were deposited in the recycle bin.

This species, I believe, is the same as in the prior photo and it is the big boy of the crowd: the aptly named Large Bee Fly, Bombylius major. Keep in mind, "large" is a relative term. These things look like a miniature jelly bean covered with fur, and I suppose an aeronautics engineer would take a glance at one and proclaim that it should not be able to rise aloft.

But fly they do - these things are the Blue Angels of the fly world. This particular bee fly was diligently guarding a patch of turf, and whenever another bee fly would foolishly impinge on its territory, this fly would dart after it with an impressive burst of speed, astonishingly fast jags and jigs, and a clearly audible chainsaw buzzing of the wings. Note its long proboscis, the better to suck nectar from plants.

This is some sort of solitary bee, or digger bee, in the act of creating her burrow. Into said burrow she will deposit a sweet ball of plant pollen, and lay an egg along with the pollen. Then the chamber is sealed. Life for the digger bee grub seems unusually Disneyesque for an insect. The bee larvae hatches to what amounts to a giant sugar ball; it is as if the grub is born into cotton candy and must eat its way out. What could possibly go wrong?

Enter the "cute" Bombylius major, that adorable little fuzzy hummingbirdlike fly. Like the digger bees, this fly too collects much pollen and as with the bees, is undoubtedly an important pollinator. But the Large Bee Fly is a digger bee's worst nightmare.

When the time for reproduction rolls around, the female bee fly sneaks over to a digger bee's burrow before it's sealed, and hurls her eggs at the entrance. I'm not sure exactly how she "hurls" them, but whatever the means of locomotion, if her aim is good the eggs either tumble into the burrow or land near its entrance.

Upon hatching, the predatory fly larva - which probably lacks any sort of the cuteness of the adults - begin feeding on the pollen provisioned by the hard-working digger bee. When that's exhausted if not before, the fly larva digs into the digger bee grub and feasts on that. Life in the bee burrow becomes quite the horror show, thanks to the bizarre reproductive strategy of one of our most charming flies - indeed, a fly that anyone would like! - the Large Bee Fly.

Congaree National Park

I've covered a lot of turf in the past few days. First it was off to historic Leesburg, Virginia, where I had the privilege of speaking at the Loudoun County Master Gardener's 4th annual plant symposium. That was a great, well organized event, and it was nice to see some friends from that part of the world, and meet some new ones.

 

Being that South Carolina and its wonderful swamps were only seven hours or so to the south, it was off in the car immediately after the symposium. I had long wanted to get myself into prime Bachman's Warbler habitat at peak time (or what used to be peak season) for this now (probably) extinct warbler. And that I did. More on the warbler in a later post, or at the least, a soon to come book.

 

A tight time frame only allowed for forays into three of the great southern swamplands: I'on Swamp, Beidler Forest, and the above, Congaree National Park. The Congaree is the best and largest remaining bottomland forest in the U.S. This 2.5 mile boardwalk makes access easy, but it leads to miles of less developed trails.

Your narrator leans against a tree, and what a tree! This is the largest known Loblolly Pine, Pinus taeda, and it made me feel like a pygmy. The Congaree harbors many national champion trees - the largest of their kind, anywhere. Towering Loblollies and Bald Cypress create a spectacular canopy as one traverses the swamp.

I spent some quality time just laying on the forest floor and gazing into the crown of the giant Loblolly Pine, which extended about 167 feet over my head. Such a tree would have sprouted centuries ago, and its boughs have seen a lot since.

Interesting reptiles and amphibians abound in the Congaree, and this gargantuan Common Snapping Turtle, Chelydra serpentina, was a treat. Like the aforementioned tree, she's been around for a good long time, and was massive. I was respectful of her space, with good reason, but was able to sidle up close enough to make this image with my macro lens. She was cool about the whole deal, and never hissed or snapped. Note the stegosaurus-like armor plating on her foreleg.

It's hard to spend any time in a South Carolina swamp and not hear the raucous hooting and caterwauling of Barred Owls. This fellow perched obliging right off the trail, and was so sleepy it would hardly open its eyes to take in its admirers.

More cool swamp stuff to come...

South Carolina

The National Audubon Society's Biedler Forest in South Carolina. I spoke at a conference in Leesburg, Virginia, yesterday, and hey, it's only a seven hour jaunt down I-95 to get into some of South Carolina's coolest swamps, so off I went after the conference concluded. Biedler is an incredible place, and if you're ever in the Carolinas, I'd recvommend putting it on the itinerary.

A White Ibis scrutinizes your narrator from the shady depths of one of the country's finest remaining stands of old-growth Bald Cypress, at Biedler Forest. Swallow-tailed Kites cavorted overhead, Water Moccasins loafed on nearby logs, and the warbler migration is really picking up steam down here.

More southern swamp stuff will follow...

Birds of Worthington - free program, April 17!

Mark your calendars for the evening of Wednesday, April 17th! Dr. Bernard (Bernie) Master will be presenting a free program, liberally illustrated with beautiful bird images, at the McConnell Arts Center at 777 Evening Street in Worthington, Ohio. CLICK HERE for more information about this beautiful venue, including directions. The program begins at 7:00 pm, but try and arrive by 6:30 and enjoy some wine and cheese, and check out the facility.

 

Bernie is a uber-birder, and has been for nearly all of his life. A major globe-trotter, he's been to most corners of our earth and has seen about three-quarters of the world's 10,000+ bird species. Not only that, he's one of only three Americans to have seen representatives of all 227 bird families that are currently recognized.

I've known Bernie for 15 years or so, and have had the pleasure of spending time afield with him on many occasions, and visiting his Worthington property. It's the latter that this talk will focus on - he has recorded an astonishing number of birds in his "yard", including mega-rarities such as Kirtland's Warbler and Mississippi Kite. I can't recall the current yard-list total, but it's pushing 200 species, I think. Bernie has kept fastidious notes for many years related to his avian visitors, and has recorded many of them with his camera.

Photo: Bernard Master

I don't think Bernie's yet found Long-billed Dowitcher on his property, but this beautiful photo of one of those shorebirds snapping at a dragonfly gives you a sense of the imagery that you're in for with this program.

Bernie's yard is much more than a yard - it's a suburban sanctuary with a diversity of habitat the wildlife that comes along with that. Be sure and stop on by the McConnell Arts Center on the evening of April 17 and hear Bernie's talk. Hope to see you there!

Green Lawn Cemetery sports some "good" birds

Green Lawn Cemetery is a huge green splash of habitat embedded in a very urbanized landscape on the south side of Columbus, Ohio. At 360 acres, it is the second largest cemetery in the state, trailing only Cincinnati's Spring Grove Cemetery in size. Long known as a legendary birding hotspot, Green Lawn boasts a massive bird list which includes many rarities: Ohio's first Mississippi Kite record, what was probably the first widely seen Swainson's Warbler, Harris's Sparrow, Kirtland's Warbler, and many others.

These all qualify as "good" birds. Don't you hate that G-word when applied to birds? I do, and fastidiously try to avoid its use when making a statement about the purported value of any bird. After all, every bird is a good bird, at least somewhere. Even worse is when someone says "I got" a bird. One time, I was standing along a road in Churchill, Manitoba when a van full of birders pulled up. The guide looked out, and said "what do you see?" I reported that I was watching a Northern Shrike, aka "Butcherbird" teed up and hunting. Shrikes are cooler than Elvis ever was. He reported the sighting to the contents of the bus, and I heard several "birders" say, almost in unison, "oh, we already 'got' that".

No, they didn't "get" the shrike. John James Audubon, Alexander Wilson, and other early ornithologists "got" birds when they blasted them from the trees with shotguns in the days of yore. Indeed, that vanful of birders would have done well to stumble out of that vehicle and spend a bit of time playing the role of birdwatchers.

Anyway, enough of that. Green Lawn is near and dear to me, and I've had a long relationship with the place. I've made hundreds of trips there over my life, and even before I had a driver's license, my parents or brother would take me there to look for birds. This eventually led to my serving for 14 years on the board of trustees, as we endeavored to manage the place as, essentially, an arboretum and nature preserve. Indeed, its formal name is Green Lawn Cemetery and Arboretum. The vast majority of Ohio's native tree species can be found, and many of the oaks are old-growth behemoths that are several hundred years old. Add in plenty of century old ornamental conifers and it's no mystery why Green Lawn Cemetery is attractive to birds.

Not long ago, I led a group of 20 or so natural resources students from Ohio State University around the cemetery. I had high hopes for two especially noteworthy species (noteworthy, not "good"), and we struck gold. Plundering the cones of a Norway Spruce was a trio of White-winged Crossbills, including one bright pink male. Later, after the students had departed, Steve Rose and I wandered back and were treated to the sight of this female on the ground, slaking her thirst. She blends well with the leaves.

I think that the students appreciated this mighty little hunter more than they did the crossbills. Merlins have become a wintertime fixture at Green Lawn for at least six years now, and I hoped that we might catch up to one on this day. Sure enough, a sharp-eyed student spotted one of the birds high on a snag. I was able to set my scope up, and everyone could leisurely admire the barrel-chested avian warrior. The Merlin, being a Merlin, cared not a whit for us lower life forms on the ground far below, and generally ignored its fawning admirers.

Both the crossbills and Merlin (or Merlins) are undoubtedly still in residence. From here on out, as migration picks up steam, there'll be an ever increasing cast of migrant birds cycling through Green Lawn Cemetery. If you've not been there, make a visit and check the place out. More information about the cemetery can be found on the Ohio Ornithological Society's website, HERE.

"Bigfoot", finally indisputably documented, in Ohio!

If you've followed this blog very much, you've probably seen some of the remarkable videography that I've shared, courtesy of Dave and Laura Hughes. Their knowledge of animal behavior, and access to a remote region filled with wildlife, has enabled them to use high-tech trail cams to achieve amazing results. Examples of their work include footage of Beaver, Bobcat, and Coyote (click on any of those animal names to see the video).

Well, once I and many others saw the results of the Hughes' sophisticated videography and their incredible footage of animals which are normally nearly impossible to observe, our thoughts quickly turned to one of the most enigmatic and unresolved mysteries in the natural sciences. Bigfoot.

This is "Frame 352" from the now legendary video shot by Robert Gimlin and Roger Patterson in 1967 in California. The pair claims to have briefly encountered a "cryptid", or unknown animal, and managed to get a brief film that includes the screen capture above. Their video has been subject to intense scrutiny, and no one has ever been able to prove or disprove its validity. And that's saying a lot, as many of science's best and brightest minds have long pursued the mystery of Bigfoot, as well as its various closely related "species" such as Sasquatch, Grass Ape, Yeti, etc. Indeed, professional organizations have sprung up that are dedicated to researching - and locating - the creatures that many scientists are, for now, labeling Homorilla erectus. A growing camp of scientists and biologists believe that these creatures clearly represent a missing link between apes in the genus Gorilla, and humans - genus Homo.

The Hughes have been surveilling and filming intensely for several years in Monroe County, near the Ohio River. Not far from their sites lies Salt Fork State Park in Guernsey County, which is in the upper lefthand corner of this map. This sparsely populated region of dense forests and rugged terrain probably produces more sightings and encounters with large bipedal cryptids than any other place on earth; certainly in North America. Such has been the spate of encounters in this area that Salt Fork State Park is the venue for the annual Ohio Bigfoot Conference, which takes place on April 13. It is the biggest and best organized of its kind.

Given the remarkable advances in remotely operated camera and video technology, many authorities believed it would only be a matter of time before solid evidence regarding the existence of Homorilla erectus was brought to light. I figured that, given their incredible success in documenting well known but incredibly secretive mammals in Monroe County, it might well be the Hughes that produced evidence of H. erectus.

The Hughes check their camera rigs frequently, and remain alert for any new animal signs. For some time, they have noticed evidence of unidentified large animals - large broken branches, saplings that have been bulled over, and big but always obscure and unrecognizable footprints. Finally, early last winter one of their motion-activated photo cams picked up this fuzzy image. It appears to be a biped, walking upright that appears humanlike. The photo is just not good enough to state with certainty what this creature is, however.

However, now a site with suspicious activity was clearly identified, and the Hughes ramped up surveillance in the area. Their work led to this video, a few weeks after the previous still photo was captured. This video is intriguing, as it clearly shows an upright humanlike figure, but is also frustrating as the cryptid passes through at the periphery of the camera's reach, and does not allow for detailed study.

Recently and not far from where the above video was made, a still camera was tripped and obtained this image. It appears that the creature is moving fast, and details are blurry. But there seems to be little doubt that a nonhuman biped is involved, and by using the known size of surrounding vegetation, the Hughes gauged its height to be around 6'10".

In spite of diligently maintaining their camera rigs and recording nearly every night since these stills and video were made, the Hughes have yet to obtain any other footage. The cryptid in their films is almost certainly not a human, however. Given that the video and stills were made in a region where literally dozens of sightings of Bigfootlike creatures have been made, we must assume that it is likely the animal that, for now, is being dubbed Homorilla erectus.

The photo above was made on March 27. In only two weeks, several hundred biologists and amateur cryptid hunters will descend on nearby Salt Fork State Park for the Ohio Bigfoot Conference. With all of those trained eyes, we can only hope that they will turn up this creature, or another like it.