Nature: Spectacular sandhill cranes still rule the roost in protected Indiana marshes

A trio of sandhill cranes in flight at Jasper-Pulaski Fish and Wildlife Area in Indiana/Jim McCormac

Nature: Spectacular sandhill cranes still rule the roost in protected Indiana marshes

Columbus Dispatch
December 19, 2021

NATURE
Jim McCormac

At the dawn of European settlement, North America’s Midwest was a vastly different landscape. Today’s environment is thoroughly altered by the hand of man. Few people probably have a sense of the conditions that reigned even a century or two ago.

A case in point is the former Grand Kankakee Marsh of northern Indiana. When settlers first arrived in this region, the Kankakee River flowed 233 miles westward from its springy origins near modern-day South Bend. Its torturous circuit carved out hundreds of bends and oxbows, and a half million acres of wetlands and primeval forest buffered its banks.

The massive marsh was one of North America’s greatest wetlands. Only 70 miles to the east was the Great Black Swamp, which covered much of northwest Ohio. It sprawled over nearly a million acres. Driving the region today, one would have little clue that some of the richest wetlands in America occupied those lands.

By the mid-19th century, agriculturalists had set to work draining the Kankakee Marsh. By the early 20th century, their work was complete. The Kankakee River had been channelized into a 133-mile ditch straight as a plumb line. The wetlands were nearly gone, transformed to endless billiard table flat monocultures of beans, corn, and wheat.

While the loss of indigenous flora and fauna was staggering, worse than we will ever know, some creatures still haunt their ancestral milieu.

Foremost among the survivors is the Sandhill Crane. This is a spectacular bird four feet in height with a wingspan of nearly seven feet. A big one might weigh 12 pounds.

For millennia, Sandhill Cranes staged in late fall and early winter in the Kankakee marshes. Birds that bred locally were augmented by those that nested further north. While most of the local nesters have been eradicated, legions of others still congregate in the remaining bits of habitat.

The crane oasis is Jasper-Pulaski Fish and Wildlife Area in northwest Indiana. It’s only a 4.5-hour drive from Columbus. I visited in late November, near the cranes’ peak. About 30,000 birds were in the area.

At night that cranes roost in protected marshes within the wildlife area. At dawn, they fan out into corn stubble fields in the area, where they glean spilled grain. Woe to any mouse that shows itself. Sandhill Cranes are opportunistic omnivores that grab any edible morsel, plant or animal.

Thousands of cranes working the fields is a spectacle not soon forgotten. At one point, I was photographing a nearby flock when something put up several thousand birds about a mile away. Their irate bugles merged into a low roar, clearly audible from my distant post. The flock suggested a scudding storm cloud on the horizon.

Sandhill Cranes are highly social and in late afternoon, the foraging flocks converge on a massive meadow in the wildlife area called Goose Pasture. A large observation deck overlooks the site, making for easy viewing.

Waves of cranes, traveling in groups small and large, make their way to the pasture bugling all the while. The calls of cranes are earthy and primeval, a resonant woody rattling that harks to an earlier time. Interspersed are the bright sibilant whistles of juveniles. The youngsters remain with their parents for most of their first year.

Much dancing occurs among the thousands of vociferous congregants. Ornate displays are one way in which cranes communicate. The gamboling pair makes vertical leaps, spread their wings in ornate flourishes, and bow deeply to one another. Occasionally one will toss dirt clods or plant debris aloft. Sometimes dancers trigger reactions among their colleagues, and localized flash dances erupt.

Just after dusk, blastoffs commence with huge groups leaving en masse for the roosting marshes. The show ends with a bang. And a wall of sound never forgotten.

Mid-November to mid-December is peak time for cranes at Jasper-Pulaski. I highly recommend a visit. More details are at: https://www.in.gov/dnr/fish-and-wildlife/properties/jasper-pulaski-fwa/

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

Lake Erie, November gale

As always, click the photo to enlarge

While going through images for a project yesterday, I came across this image from November 18, 2014. I had to give a talk in Cleveland that night, so I went up early to photograph gulls at Eastlake, on Lake Erie. The conditions were brutal: gale force winds, and temps in the low teens. For a brief moment near day's end, the sun suddenly lit the waves and their atomized mist, creating a stunning scene. I raced back to my car and swapped lenses and managed a handful of shots while the light was manageable. My hands were so cold I remember struggling to get the lenses on and off. The gulls, naturally, were unfazed by the wind and cold. I do not know what they thought of the beauty of the scene they occupied.
 

Woolly-bears on the move

 

A Woolly-bear (Pyrrharctia isabella) crosses a road. I saw many of these well-known caterpillars last Sunday. The temps were in the low to mid 40's F, but it was sunny, and the bears were on the move.

I was at the Wilds and vicinity in Muskingum County, Ohio, mostly looking for birds to photograph. But wandering larvae temporarily side-tracked my quest.

I did shoot some birds, including this Northern Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos). He was nestled in a shrubby thicket, but when I stopped for a look, he popped out to look back. Mockingbirds are extremely in tune with their surroundings, from my experience, and pay close attention to detail. Far more than most songbirds, it seems. Perhaps this behavioral characteristic aids them in carefully listening to and learning the songs and sounds that they mimic so well.

Anyway, after about ten minutes of watching the mockingbird, hoping for an interesting flourish of the wings or something else of note, I was rewarded. The bird suddenly flew down to the road and seized a Woolly-bear that had wandered onto the pavement. Yes! But my hopes for photo documentation were soon dashed when it flew into the heart of the thicket to deal with its prey. I could not see how he dealt with the larval bear and all its stiff bristles, but I imagine it sliced it open with that stout bill and slurped out the innards. Baltimore Orioles (Icterus galbula) successfully feed on spiny Eastern Tent Caterpillars (Malacosoma americana) in this way.

This was the first time that I've seen a bird prey on Woolly-bears. Their dense coat of bristles probably is a pretty good bird deterrent, most of the time.

A Giant Leopard Moth caterpillar (Hypercompe scribonia) crosses a road not far from where the mockingbird grabbed the Woolly-bear. I saw many of these, too, although the Woolly-bears outnumbered them by a good margin. This caterpillar is somewhat larger and thicker than the Woolly-bear, all black, and when seen well the reddish-orange bands delineating its abdominal segments are diagnostic.

I suspect that Giant Leopard Moth cats are frequently mistaken for "dark" Woolly-bears". As you may know, there is a pervasive myth that the darker the Woolly-bear, the tougher the coming winter will be. However, any analysis of that myth would have to somehow take into account the problem with caterpillar misidentifications. There is yet another very common species of tiger moth, the Virginian Tiger Moth (Spilosoma virginica) whose caterpillars can be active into late fall. Its caterpillars are known as Yellow Bears (it isn't rare for adult moth species to go by a different common name than their caterpillars). Yellow Bears are variable in coloration but often resemble very pale Woolly-bears. Such larvae, when misidentified as they almost certainly commonly are, would be "light" Woolly-bears that forecast a mild winter.

This is what a Woolly-bear becomes, if not eaten by a mockingbird, Buick'ed while crossing a road, or bumped off in some other way. The Isabella Tiger Moth, a handsome insect. While legions of people know the caterpillar, probably very few would recognize the moth that it transforms into.

This is a Giant Leopard Moth, a truly stunning species and always a crowd-pleaser. A leopard in mint condition is an entomological work of art, with its array of black circles and iridescent blue markings. Press one gently with your fingers, and it may "reflex bleed": exude two amber droplets from the front of the abdomen, just above the head. It's a very cool effect, and the droplets presumably are toxic and assist in warding off predation by birds.

Nature: Leaf and lawn litter provides shelter for various animals

Spotted apatelodes, left, and two angel moths rest on leaf litter/Jim McCormac

Nature: Leaf and lawn litter provides shelter for various animals

Columbus Dispatch
December 5, 2021

NATURE
Jim McCormac

I write this in late November, and the war on leaves is in full swing. Here in suburbia, the annoyingly loud drone of leaf blowers is the siren song of the obsessed lawn manicurist. I’m hard-pressed to think of a more annoying invention than a leaf blower — at least the noisy gas-powered ones. All to solve what should be a non-issue.

The first plants appeared about 470 million years ago. For eons, vegetable matter languished in a wee state, attaining little size. Things began to change about 350 million years ago, when trees began their evolutionary ascent.

In the latter stages of the Mesozoic Era, about 145 million years ago, trees began to evolve deciduousness. Leaves began to be seasonally shed.

Countless millennia of shed leaves and attendant leaf litter thoroughly entwined itself into the world’s ecological webs. Leaves decompose and enrich soils with carbon, nitrogen and phosphorus.

Over time, myriad forms of animal life evolved relationships with leaf litter. Invertebrates mostly too small to notice thrive in the leafy blanket, but they fuel higher animals we do notice. In the past few days, I’ve noticed Carolina and winter wrens, dark-eyed juncos and several other sparrow species, cardinals and even blue jays sifting through the leaves in search of insects or seeds.

Butterflies such as commas and question marks hide in plain sight atop litter, blending well. But moths take the leaf-litter relationship to a higher level. There is even a large group known as litter moths due to their specialized relationship with downed leaves. Many litter moths live their entire life cycle in the leaf layer: eggs, caterpillars, cocoons and adults.

Many moths have evolved cryptic appearances that make them one with dead leaves. The angel and spotted apatelodes moths in the accompanying photo are astonishingly leaf-like at rest. Good luck spotting one before it flies.

Your leaf litter indirectly grows bats. All those moths resting in the litter during the day take to the wing at night. And some will be snapped up by the sonar-equipped flying mammals.

Some of the moths that dodge the bats will pollinate flowers in the neighborhood — they’re really nocturnal butterflies.

Birds are also fueled by leaf litter. All moths are caterpillars in their second phase, and most never make it to adulthood. The vast majority are snapped up by predators with songbirds being prime among them.

In essence, when someone blows or rakes leaves to the curb for removal, they directly lay waste to scores of creatures and adversely impact the survival of others.

Americans send about 33 million tons of leaf and lawn “debris” annually to landfills. That’s over 12% of all solid waste. And what a waste. Just the use of gas and pollutants generated by disposal trucks is staggering. All to keep lawns and gardens looking neat.

Turf grass is now the biggest plant crop in the U.S., collectively covering an area larger than Wisconsin. An estimated $60 billion is spent by Americans on turf grass maintenance, and lawn owners spend a collective three million hours annually on this pursuit. The clangorous activities of mowing and leaf-blowing contribute greatly to noise pollution.

Nearly all landowners are guilty of this dubious aesthetic pursuit, the writer included.

However, I’ve reduced my lawn, and more turf will be vanquished over time. Downsizing the lawn’s footprint and replacing it with native flora is something anyone can do, and I try to do my part.

As for those downed leaves, and I have plenty, they mostly stay where they fall. Those that cover what remains of the front yard get mulched by my mower and returned to the soil.

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

Dancing cranes

 

I recently spent a few days in northwestern Indiana, at and in the vicinity of Jasper-Pulaski Fish & Wildlife Area. This area is legendary for the numbers of Sandhill Cranes (Antigone canadensis) that gather here in late fall and early winter. They are southbound from northern nesting areas. During my time there in the last week of November, crane numbers were reaching their peak. About 30,000 birds were estimated to be in the area.

The photo above shows typical land use in the regions around the wildlife area. Agriculture on an epic scale, and streams transformed to deep ditches. The Kankakee River drains much of northern Indiana, including this area. At the time of European settlement, there were about a half million acres of wetlands and prairies along the river's corridor. By the early 1920's, agriculturalists had managed to drain nearly all the wetlands and destroy nearly all of the prairies and savannas. The destruction of the "Grand Marsh" is one of the greatest and saddest tales of large-scale land conversion in North America. Mountains of biodiversity was lost, and the Kankakee itself was channelized into a linear ditch over its entire length in Indiana.

But the cranes still come to this ancestral staging area. The big birds are far more resilient than, say, Greater Prairie-Chickens, which were thoroughly vanquished from the state. A hard and inescapable fact in nature is that there are always winners and losers resulting from our actions. Specialists such as prairie-chickens, Regal Fritillary butterflies, and Prairie Fringed Orchids tend to be the losers when people more or less successfully bend nature to their will. Facultative opportunistic species such as Canada Geese, Butterweed (Packera glabella) and Coyotes are winners, adapting well to massive change. And, to a degree, the cranes are winners.

The cranes spend their nights in big marshes within the wildlife area and radiate out into agricultural fields during the day. There, they feed on spilled grain and whatever morsels these omnivorous opportunists can find. In certain areas, the fields are full of cranes. At one point, I was watching and photographing a group of them when something put up thousands of birds about a mile away. The din created by all those bugling cranes was easily audible from my position, and they created a semblance of low scudding clouds on the horizon.

A pair of Sandhill Cranes picks through the stubble. It would be interesting to know how old they are, and how long they have been paired. The oldest known wild Sandhill Crane (from a western population) was forty (40!) years old. Sadly, we know that because it was shot by a hunter. An ignominious ending for such a regal elder. But as the bird was banded, we did glean something of value from the unfortunate episode.

Cranes are thought to often mate for life, and one way in which they reinforce bonds is by "dancing". If you visit Jasper-Pulaski at peak crane season, you will see this behavior. To me, it is one of the most interesting things about crane-watching. Much of the dancing occurs beyond the range of my lens, and I just enjoy it through binoculars. Sometimes, a pair's dancing sparks more dancing by other birds, and before you know it it's like a feathered flash mob erupts, dancing to some primal beat.

I had a feeling the pair featured here was going to do something, and they were close enough that I could work my camera. Sure enough, the dance soon commenced. The bird on the left has tossed plant debris aloft - you can see it in the air over its head. Object tossing typically accompanies these displays. We can assume the other bird is impressed.

Dancing cranes offer showy wing flourishes, polite bows, and frequently hop vertically several feet into the air, like pogo-sticks.

This synchronized, energetic bird ballet is impressive. It'll usually last for a minute or few, then it's back to gleaning seeds from the stubble as if nothing happened.

If you've not been to Jasper-Pulaski, I highly recommend a visit. The incredible Kankakee Sands prairie restoration is less than an hour west and should be included on the itinerary. I'll write more about Kankakee later.

 

 As always, click the photo to enlarge

A squadron of Sandhill Cranes drops the landing gear and parasails to the ground. There, they will join several thousand of their comrades. Perhaps 30,000 birds are in the general area. In an age-old ritual, cranes gather in early winter in the big prairie marshes of northwest Indiana. They fill the air with loud bugles punctuated by the keening jangly trills of juveniles. Family units are still intact, and the juveniles will stay with their parents into next spring.

I'm at Jasper-Pulaski Wildlife Area near Medaryville, Indiana, for a few days. I arrived in time for the evening crane show, where thousands of birds assemble in a giant field for socializing before flying to nearby marshes for the night. Skies are gray and there'll be rain tonight, but I'm hoping for at least a day of blue skies. Cranes in flight photograph much better then. I'm also visiting the amazing Kankakee Sands area about an hour to the west, on the Illinois state line. The Nature Conservancy has done remarkable restoration work here, and I'm looking forward to seeing it in this season. I've only been once, in July. The primary target of that trip was the rare Regal Fritillary (Speyeria idalia). You can see some photos of the frit, and the prairie, RIGHT HERE.

Nature: Conkles Hollow features scenic gorge and gorgeous scenes

Conkles Hollow, on a misty fall day/Jim McCormac

Nature: Conkles Hollow features scenic gorge and gorgeous scenes

Columbus Dispatch

November 21, 2021

NATURE

Jim McCormac

Water is a relentless force of nature. Taken as a single drop, H2O is innocuous. Gathered into a raging torrent, water is an indomitable sculptor of landscapes.

Eons ago, water began seeking its path of least resistance high on a ridgetop in Hocking County, not far south of the village of Gibisonville. The trickle flowed downslope, as water always does, and over time forged a rivulet.

Heavy rains temporarily transformed the streamlet into a gully washer with the power to eat rock. Over the ages, the woodland rill incised deeply into the underlying Black Hand sandstone.

Conkles Hollow was born.

This 87-acre Conkles Hollow State Nature preserve is one of the most spectacular landscapes in the Hocking Hills, and that’s saying something. It vies with breathtaking scenic icons such as Ash Cave, Cedar Falls, and Old Man’s Cave.

In places, sheer cliffs 200 feet provide rocky bulwarks to the gorge at Conkles. As one moves up the valley trail, the walls close in and form a narrow box canyon. At its terminus is the falls where water plunges into the gorge. Normally, a mere drizzle sprays from the summit. Visit during heavy rains, which I have, and the drizzle is transformed into a raging deluge.

The gorge’s odd name stems from initials carved into a sandstone wall in 1797 by a settler named W.J. Conkle. Graffiti has been with us for a long time.

Conkles Hollow offers a taste of the boreal forest, in southeastern Ohio. A dominant tree on the gorge’s slopes is eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis). This conifer occurs in peak abundance far to our north, but the cool microclimate of Conkles Hollow provides refugia for these hardy trees.

Shallowly rooted hemlocks cling tenaciously to boulders and cliff faces, and the largest specimens tower 75 feet or more in height. The specialized plant community anchored by the hemlocks fosters an unusual — for Ohio — breeding bird community.

Species that breed in peak abundance in the conifer belt of the extreme northern U.S. and Canada have established disjunct outposts in hemlock gorges such as Conkles Hollow. Their ranks include blue-headed vireo, red-breasted nuthatch, winter wren, and a suite of warblers: Blackburnian, black-throated green, Canada and magnolia.

An aural standout of the northern birds is the hermit thrush. Visit in spring or summer and you’re likely to be serenaded by the exquisite song of this speckle-bellied skulker. Its honeyed notes combine to form an ethereal symphony well-suited to the cathedral-like majesty of its environs.

I made the accompanying photo on Oct. 29, when colorful autumn foliage spiced the landscape. But Conkles Hollow is a feast for the eyes at any season. Spring brings a profusion of woodland wildflowers. In summer, the gorge is cloaked in a lush carpet of fancy fern (Dryopteris intermedia). Winter can bring fantastic ice formations.

Fortunately, the State of Ohio had the foresight to purchase nearly 150 acres at Old Man’s Cave in 1924, and the Hocking Hills State Park had its genesis. Since then, landholdings have mushroomed to about 2,000 acres, augmented by state nature preserves, the Hocking State Forest, and various private conservation initiatives.

Nearly 5 million people visit the Hocking Hills annually, and create a major economic input to the region. While ecotourism has its benefits, some prefer a dose of solitude. Pro tips: Arrive at your destination at dawn, go on weekdays, or select the coldest winter days. You should have time largely free of fellow primates.

For more information on Conkles Hollow, visit: https://ohiodnr.gov/

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