Short-eared Owls at Lawrence Woods

A pair of Short-eared Owls, Asio flammeus, hunt over an old field in the gloom of post-dusk. The other bird is in the background, bottom righthand corner of the photo. Don't expect award winning owl photos in this post - the short-ears didn't take to the wing until it was nearly dark and it was all my camera could do to make any images at all.

Short-eared Owls can be curious and this fellow suddenly materialized over my head. It's always a treat to watch these owls hunt the grasslands and meadows, barking and scuffling with neighboring owls and occasionally plummeting earthward to Whack-A-Mole (or vole). I saw four, and possibly five, owls tonight. A Northern Harrier was working the fields earlier, and a dark morph Rough-legged Hawk was also nearby.

This was the place of the owling - Lawrence Woods State Nature Preserve in Hardin County, Ohio. We're looking east down Township Road 190, with the preserve lands on the right, and a big prairie/grassland on the left, the latter courtesy of Pheasants Forever. The big woods - the preserve's namesake - can be seen way off to the right. This preserve encompasses over 1,000 acres, and roughly half is the woods, and the rest is meadow. The owls were hunting the field on the right, and were easy to view until conditions grew too dark.

This map shows the locale, should you wish to go Short-eared Owling at this spot. The area outlined in blue are the good owl fields. The section of Township Rd. 190 highlighted in red bisects the fields, and there is virtually no traffic along here and the verges are wide and flat, so viewing from an automobile should be no problem. The red line heading south from 190 is the gravel drive back to the preserve parking lot, and good viewing can be had from there as well. Note that the preserve is open only during daylight hours, though.

U.S. 68 can be seen on the left of the photo, and the city of Kenton is a few miles to the north. This site is less than an hour from Columbus, and makes for a great field trip. There is a fabulous boardwalk through the woods, and traipsing its length prior to nightfall should produce Red-headed Woodpecker and all of the other expected woodpeckers. Barred, Eastern Screech, and Great Horned Owls are also present, so with a bit of luck and careful listening you might tally four species of owls at this site.

Those hard-working Beaver (with video)

 

A Beaver, Castor canadensis, at his work station. I photographed this individual a few years back in Delaware County, Ohio, as the animal busily girdled huge Eastern Cottonwood trees along the shoreline of a lake. If a tree is too large to gnaw through and drop, Beaver will often girdle it, which eventually kills the tree.

 

Beaver are the consummate mammalian engineers, and their labors modify their environment to a degree that is probably unmatched by any other among our mammals (excepting Homo sapiens). These animals are clever, and hard-working to a fault. I've had the good fortune to see them on many occasion, and see the fruits of their labors many times. But few of us will experience the views of a Beaver at work that is shown in the trail cam video later in this post. David and Laura Hughes have been at it once again, and outdone themselves with this clip.

 

We should be grateful that Beaver are still around and making wetlands. The pelts of these animals have long been highly valued, and the pursuit of Beaver furs led to their extirpation in Ohio by 1830 or so. Eventually laws were enacted to govern their protection, and populations began to increase. Beaver began to trickle back into the state in the early 1900's, and by 1947 Ohio's population was estimated to contain 25 colonies in 11 counties. By 1972 their ranks had swelled to over 4,400 in 37 counties, and just four years later (1976) an estimated 7,500+ Beaver ranged over 40 counties. Today, there are probably in excess of 27,000 animals in the state, in all 88 counties. Trapping of Beaver is highly regulated, and current prices for a large grade A pelt is about $25.00.

A Beaver slices through the still waters of a pond that he and his predecessors created in northern Michigan's Presque Isle County. Few mammals are as at home in the drink as are these flat-tailed swimmers. A Beaver's entire life is spent in or adjacent to water, and all of their efforts go towards manipulating the hydrology of streams to better suit their purposes.

The animal in the above photo was a big 'un. A robust specimen can tip the scales at 70 lbs., although 40 lbs. would be a more typical poundage. You'll often hear a Beaver before seeing it. When danger is spotted, the animal will often slap the water's surface with its paddlelike tail, which creates an astonishingly loud SMACK! That sound alerts his fellows to potential peril, and then the tail-smacker will submerge. Extraordinarily oversized lungs allow it to remain below for up to 15 minutes.

This Google Earth photo shows an incredible Beaver-engineered and maintained wetland complex in southern Ohio's Lawrence County. Two huge dams (traced in red) back up two ponds in the small valleys of a forest. The area outlined in blue - which disappears off the left side of the image - is a fantastic wetland spawned in the soggy overflow from the Beaver's primary ponds. A well-developed dam can be in excess of 50 feet in length, and often has a sinuous shape as these two dams do. The Beaver are dligent about maintaining these structures and keeping water levels at precisely the levels that their needs dictate.

I stumbled into the wetland complex above in 1999, and was awestruck by its compexity. The wetlands in the wake of the dams' outflow contained a remarkable diversity of flora; far more plant species than would have been present had the Beaver not taken up residence. The botanical diversity in turn sparks an enormous spike in animal diversity. We found American Bittern and Prothonotary Warbler in this wetland, both of which are rare in that part of Ohio. Dragonflies and other aquatic insects abounded, as did scores of other wetland-dependent animal life. When I first saw this Beaver wetland about a dozen years ago, it was obvious that the dams had been in place for some time. And as the Google Earth image is a recent one, they're obviously still there, and hopefully will be for some time to come. I want to make a return visit next summer, and marvel at this engineering feat firsthand once again.

If you regularly follow this blog, you may have seen the exceptional videography of Bobcat and River Otter made by David and Laura Hughes, which they kindly allowed me to share. Well, they've outdone themselves with this video, also made in Monroe County, Ohio, which shows a Beaver hard at work as it labors to drop a tree. Turn up the volume and you'll hear the sound of gnawing as the oversize rodent busily endeavors to bring down the tree. Note too the size of the wood chips that spew from the animal's maw as its huge incisors make mincemeat of the wood.

Thanks again to David and Laura for once again sharing their work with us.

The moths' last hurrah

One of the many plume moth species at rest under your blogger's porch light, tonight. It's certainly cool outside, but a chill 50 degrees is warm enough to bring out the last of our straggling moths. Plume moths - at least some of the species - seem to be among the last of the moths to survive into late fall and early winter.

A gentle prod with a finger stimulated the animal to splay its legs and antennae. I believe this is a female, going by the narrow wiry antennae, and I will take a semi-educated guess that it is the Morning-glory Plume Moth, Emmelina monodactyla.

Plume moths are very distinctive as a group. When at rest, their tightly inrolled wings and cylindrical body form a T-shape. As you may have guessed from the common name, the caterpillars of this moth feed largely on members of the morning-glory family, although they also apparently eat a number of other low weedy plants.

Taking photos at night, and/or of macro-type objects is always a tricky business. Thanks to a tip from Jack Hoying, I recently got the cumbersome looking boxlike contraption above. It is a Lumiquest Softbox III, and it quickly attaches to the camera's Speedlite flash via quick-release velcro tabs. Tonight is the first time I've had a chance to fool with it, and I look forward to working more with the softbox. Under friendlier conditions, too - shooting moths on a rather blase wall under the glare of a nearby porch light never achieves really great results, no matter what one does.

Diffusers such as this device soften the flash, and can help achieve some really remarkable photographs.

Northern Saw-whet Owl

Lisa holds a Northern Saw-whet Owl, Aegolius acadicus, shortly after it was captured in a mist net near Chillicothe, Ohio. I was down for my annual visit to this banding operation lasat Friday night, and this was one of two birds caught that evening.

Until the mid-2000's, no one had any clue as to just how common Northern Saw-whet Owls were in Ohio. If one were to go only by the relatively few reports made by birders who lucked into roosting birds, you'd have had to assess their status as rare, or uncommon at best. Of course, it stands to reason that such a secretive animal would largely go undetected. In my guide, Birds of Ohio, which came out in 2004, I made the statement: "...the vast majority of Northern Saw-whet Owls no doubt go undetected in Ohio".

Such opinions are speculative, however - concrete research is needed to prove or disprove such things. Well, 2004 was the year that the Chillicothe banding station whose work is featured here got fired up. Since that time, they have captured well over 300 owls, in a habitat and a locale that no one would have predicted as being optimal for saw-whets. Their efforts are not solo - a few others also focus on saw-whets in Ohio or nearby, and they too have captured a great many birds. Thesee banding stations are part of a systematic nationwide survey of Northern Saw-whet Owls known as Project Owlnet, and this research collaborative has revealed reams of information about the migratory habits of what was not long ago one of our most poorly understood North American birds.

Having an accurate  knowledge of an animal is key to successfully conserving its populations, and in the case of the Northern Saw-whet Owl, it is the efforts of banders who have revealed the mysteries of what could be our most charismatic owl.

The team works on an owl back at the research station a short walk from the nets. Dan and Ryan, in the foreground, and Lisa and Kelly Williams-Sieg in the back. Kelly is the driving force behind this banding station, with much help from this crew, and Bill Bosstic and Bob Scott Placier.

Owls caught and banded in Chillicothe have been recaptured numerous times at far-flung places across eastern North America, and the Chillicothians have captured a number of owls that were banded in other areas. All of this work via Project Owlnet has revealed a scope of migration that no one was previously aware of. October through mid-December is the tiime of the big southward push, and it appears that such irruptions are cyclical, and probably related to populations of voles and other small animals which are the owls' primary prey.

Dan checks the keel, or breastbone, of this owl, feeling for muscle and fat depositions. Many data points are collected, and an effort is made to determine how much fatty reserves the birds have built up. If it looks like the bird is enjoying this inspection, it probably is. Saw-whets seem to respond to touch in much the way that a house cat does: hooding their eyes and pushing into one's finger as if to urge the holder to continue the stroking.

Few birds are as mellow as saw-whets. For the most part, they make no attempt to struggle or otherwise indicate displeasure; mostly just staring curiously at their captors. After all, most of these owls have probably never seen people, coming from the wilds of the vast boreal forest as they do. Furthermore, saw-whets have low metabolisms and are not high-strung or fidgety, which probably serves them well to conserve energy.

The odd black light test. Porphyrins in the feathers can help reveal the age of the bird, and these compounds glow pink when exposed to black light. These is a hatch-year bird; porphyrins fade with age and become less pronounced on older individuals.

Deb came along on this Friday evening outing, and got the opportunity to witness a few Northern Saw-whet Owls up close and personal, and learn about the fascinating morphology of owls up close and personal. Well over a thousand people have been exposed to the marvelous but mostly unwitnessed life of owls at this banding operation.

One aspect of owl morphology that saw-whet banders quickly become acquainted with is powerful talons. Small as these micro-hooters may be, their talons are sharp as hypodermic needles and those little - although proportionate to the bird, huge - feet are strong indeed. Woe to the mouse that falls victim to one of these predators, and double woe to the careless bander whose finger is seized.

Now that's an ear! Proportionate to the size of their skull, saw-whets probably have among the largest ears in the animal kingdom. Not only are they big, but saw-whet ears are doubly asymmetrical. Each ear is shaped slightly differently than the other, and the ears are also offset from one another. These adaptations allow the bird's "micro-processor" to better triangulate on sound and almost instantly calculate the precise location of prey in utter darkness - even a vole moving under the snow.

The eyes of a Northern Saw-whet Owl are enormous; the pair can comprise up to 5% of the bird's head! Big eyes coupled with double the number of rods and cones that you or I have allow the owl to see well in the dimmest of conditions.

Once the hapless mouse has been located, it'll never hear its cute grim reaper coming. The leading edge of the foremost primary flight feathers are "fimbriate", or fringed with soft comblike extensions. These serve to muffle the sound of flight, and are the reason that owls are silent fliers.

Before long, it's time to release the owl back into the dark woods. We put it in a soft bag, and walk it to the base of the hill, near where it was caught. By then, it's been in the dark for ten minutes or so and its eyes have re-acclimated to the nighttime forest. Oftentimes, the banders will place the owl on the outstretched arm of a visitor, to let the owl fly off on its own terms. The little fellow above was set on my arm, where it sat... and sat... and sat. It was a good seven minutes before the little hooter finally set sail, flitting up into the cover of a nearby red cedar tree.

An enormous side benefit of Northern Saw-whet Owl research is the opportunity to expose people to the little owls. Most people have not only never seen one, they did not even imagine that such a beast existed. The chance to see a saw-whet up close, and learn firsthand about their various morphological and behaviorial aspects that I discussed above wins many converts to birds, nature, and conservation.

The bulletin board above is one of several in the research lab, and they are papered over with newspaper articles, stories from magazines, and above all, notes from kids who have visited. The latter crowd is especially important, if we want to grow a new crop of conservationists. Seeing a magical little owl that seemingly appeared miracously from the gloom of the nighttime forest is sure to make an impression, and I'm sure that some of the saw-whets capured at this station have served as "spark birds" for budding young conservationists-to-be.

Long-tailed Salamander

A crew consisting of (L to R) Cheryl Harner, David Hughes, John Howard, and Vince Howard fixate on a very cool reptile perched atop that rock slab. Said reptile is not the subject of this post, but I do intend to get to the beast at a later date.

This photo was made back on August 18, and we found a veritable treasure trove of intriguing flora and fauna along this rocky little Scioto County stream. Such excursions into habitats rich in biodiversity generally net me far more blog material than I can get to in any sort of prompt manner, if ever, so sometimes I like to go back in time and revisit overlooked items.

A beautiful Long-tailed Salamander, Eurycea longicauda, peeks coyly at your narrator from the streambed. We were understandably quite pleased to find not one, but two of these charming amphibians hiding amongst the rocks of the creek.

 

It takes little imagination to infer the reason for the "long tail" part of the animal's name. Long-tailed Salamanders are incredibly alongate, slender, and whiplike. They're many, many, many times longer than wide and that incredible tail comprises over half the length of the animal.

The overall color and pattern of the salamander is exceptional. An adult is a striking shade of muted burnt-orange neatly marked with rows of small ebony blotches. Turning a rock and discovering a Long-tailed Salamander is always a momentous occasions.

Long-tailed Salamanders are common in many of the areas that they occur in Ohio, and the range extends across much of southern and eastern Ohio. They're secretive, and you're unlikely to stumble into one without working a bit. Carefully turning rocks and logs, especially in damp areas near watercourses, is the way to find one.

 

Common Feeder Birds: The Rest of the Story

Brash and bold, a Blue Jay swoops in to disrupt the ebb and flow of lesser birds at the feeder. Cut these extroverted corvids some slack, though - the avian Johnny Appleseeds play a major role in reforesting our oak woodlands.

I'm at least mildly tardy in giving up this plug, but should you find yourself in striking range of Westerville, Ohio tomorrow evening (November 14), I'm giving a talk in that fair city at 7:00 pm to the Herb Society of America. Said program is as follows:

Common Feeder Birds: The Rest of the Story

 
Bird feeding is big business, and brings birds up close and personal to people who might not otherwise notice them. Nearly everyone who tacks up suet blocks or sprinkles sunflower seeds have seen the Top 10 most common feeder birds in Ohio. It’s an interesting list, and each of these birds has a story to tell. Their roles in our lives go far beyond brightening the backyard, and in this talk we’ll explore the rest of the story.

The venue is the lovely Inniswood Gardens, and the price of admission can't be beat - it's free!

Cape May Warbler in November!

Photo: Tom Sheley

Tom Sheley, who is the proprieter of the Wild Birds Unlimited store on Riverside Drive in northwest Columbus, brightened my email inbox by sending along two photos of an unexpected November feeder visitor.

This male Cape May Warbler, Setophaga tigrina, is visiting feeders in a Worthington, Ohio backyard well after most of his compadres are back in their Caribbean wintering haunts. Given that the weather here today was in the 40's and rainy, I would think this little tiger-striped beauty may be lamenting his decision to linger, if he is still about.

Photo: Tom Sheley

Tom made these images on November 8, and normally the last straggling Cape May Warblers are gone from Ohio by mid-October. It'll be interesting to see how long this bird toughs it out.

In spite of their primarily insectivorous diet - although Cape Mays do eat lots of fruit in fall and winter - these warblers can be surprisingly hardy. There are probably 15-20 early winter records, and a few Cape Mays have toughed it out at feeders well into January.

Out of the norm birds often show up at feeders, such as Tom's beautifully photographed Cape May Warbler. If you ever spot anything that seems out of the ordinary at your feeders, such as a warbler in winter, please let me or another birder know.