Nature: The beauty of a red-shouldered hawk

 

The adult female red-shouldered hawk perches near her nest.

Columbus Dispatch

Nature: The beauty of a red-shouldered hawk

June 15, 2025

Before European settlement, when 95% of Ohio was blanketed in forests, red-shouldered hawks were common. But rampant deforestation that left only 10% of the state tree-covered by the early 1900s sent hawk numbers plummeting.

Ohio’s forests have rebounded, both in expanse and age. More and bigger timber means more red-shouldered hawks, even in urban Columbus and its suburbs. As the trees in our older neighborhoods, such as Clintonville and Worthington (founded in 1803), have matured, red-shoulders have moved in and are steadily increasing.

Adult birds are conspicuously barred with stripes of rich brick-red color below. The colorful underparts are set off nicely by zebra-like black-and-white barring on the upper parts.

A red-shouldered hawk chick in its nest. Its two nest mates are hunkered down.

While red-shouldered hawks don’t sing like songbirds, they do deliver a loud piercing scream. Blue jays mimic the call to perfection and use it to scatter birds at the feeder, thus eliminating the competition.

I live in Worthington, and unknowingly, I was driving nearly daily right past an active, red-shouldered hawk nest less than half a block up the street. A friend and neighbor, Mark Granger, told me about it back in early May. The nest is high in a lofty honey locust tree and easy to miss, at least from a vehicle.

I eventually introduced myself to Dave and Sara, the homeowners. You couldn’t meet two nicer people, and the suburban hawks have great landlords. The nest is nearly over their driveway, and their two boys, Caleb and Isaac, spend much time out front shooting baskets nearly under the nest.

When Shauna and I visited to get photos, I chatted with Caleb and his friend Charlie, who are quite interested in the birds. The raptors are utterly unfazed by the young hoopsters practicing below and couldn’t have selected a safer location for their nest, which is home to three chicks.

Indeed, I wonder if red-shouldered hawks sometimes intentionally choose sites with plenty of human activity. While the male is part of the nesting process during the nest-building and incubation period — even helping to incubate eggs — he largely vanishes once the chicks hatch. Thus, the female spends long periods away hunting, and the presence of people certainly would help to deter would-be predators in her absence.

Red-shouldered hawks have a varied diet: everything from snakes to frogs to small mammals.

While red-shoulders don’t generally have huge territories, this bird probably ranges as far as the nearby Olentangy River. Its streamside forests would provide plenty of prey, and the neighborhood chipmunks best beware. They are often a dietary staple. The female will rip prey into manageable pieces for the chicks.

Dave and Sara’s red-shouldered hawk chicks look to be about two weeks or so from taking their first flight. The youngsters that make it are likely to return to the same general area next year to start nests of their own, thus further increasing Franklin County’s suburban, red-shouldered hawk population.

The red-shouldered hawk longevity record is 26 years. Dave, Sara, Caleb and Isaac might be the lucky landlords of red-shouldered hawks for some time to come.

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

Barn Owl owlets hiss and sway

 

A nest box with four baby American Barn Owls (Tyto furcata). Buster Banish and I led a fabulous group of people around Mohican State Forest and nearby spots last Saturday, June 7, as part of Time & Optics' Optics Fling event. The group - 18 Amish folks, many of them teens - didn't really need our help, other than the driving It was one of the most expert groups I've helped "lead" a trip for, and they probably first found most of the birds. When Buster or I found something, it took no time at all to get everyone on it, and some of the young men had an incredible knowledge of songs, and call notes. What a treat to bird with them.

We also saw a whopper Spiny Softshell Turtle, a Gray Petaltail dragonfly (always notable and a specialist of wooded seepages), saw many interesting plants, got to watch a male Yellow-breasted Chat performing his aerial display flight at close range, and much more. In all, we tallied 90 bird species during this six-hour foray.

Our last hurrah was a visit to an Amish farm that has produced many Barn Owls over the years. I got to peek into the box and get hissed at. There are certainly more Barn Owls nesting in the Holmes County region than anywhere else in Ohio, due to at least two primary reasons: One, the farms are not saturated with chemicals, and there is plenty of fencerows, scruffy edge habitat, and meadows, and 2) the Amish have placed dozens of owl boxes in barns. The video follows and be sure to turn your volume up.

©Jim McCormac

NOTE about Barn Owl taxonomy: Some of you may have noticed I used the name American Barn Owl, and Tyto furcata, to refer to this species. It was long known as Barn Owl (Tyto alba). The Barn Owl is the most widely distributed owl, occurring on every continent but Antarctica, including remote islands such as the Galapagos.

The Barn Owl, until recently, had been divvied into 28 or 32 subspecies, depending on the authority, based on notable morphological differences between populations. DNA sequencing and molecular studies have recently led to the Barn Owl being cleaved into three species. Tyto alba, the Barn Owl of North America, becomes the American Barn Owl (Tyto furcata) (the subject of this post). Our former Tyto alba is now applied to the birds of Europe and Africa, which is now known as the Western Barn Owl. The third species split from the Tyto alba complex is the Eastern Barn Owl (Tyto javanica), which occurs in the East Indies, Australia, and elsewhere in the Western Pacific.

Cedar Waxwings plundering fruit, courting

 

My front yard Downy Serviceberry (Amelanchier arborea). It's an older plant and may be on the far side of middle age. But it still has seasons where it produces a bounty of sugary berries, and this is one of those years. And lots of serviceberry fruit means lots of birds.

Yes! Says a Cedar Waxwing as it enters the tree. Such an environment, to a waxwing, is akin to a kid falling into a giant bowl of M & M's. And it isn't just waxwings that visit. American Robins, Eastern Bluebirds, Gray Catbirds and others drop in for snacks. But I must confess that the suave waxwings are my favorite.

As always, click the photo to enlarge

A waxwing ponders which tasty fruit to pluck. The crop is just beginning to ripen, and from my observations, they like them ripe and red. Given the amount of fruit on this treelet, I should have waxwing visitors for some time to come.

A waxwing with freshly plucked berry. It'll be down his/her hatch soon. Fortunately, waxwings are pretty tame, and I can stand in one of my garage bays with door open and shoot them from there. They know I'm there but aren't bothered a bit. Even people walking by on the sidewalk - closer than my position - often don't flush them.

A pair in the act of passing a berry. This courtship feeding is a pair-bonding ritual, and I've seen it a number of times over the past few days, but it is difficult to photograph, usually because the birds are obstructed by branches and foliage when they do it. I'll keep at it and try for better material. Anyway, the fruit exchange is usually just once - probably mostly male to female - but this case was unusual in that they swapped the fruit back and forth five times, with the initial recipient (her, I assume) finally eating it.

Cedar Waxwings are effective frugivores, with an insatiable appetite for sugary fruit like these serviceberries. While they efficiently digest the soft parts of the fruit, the seeds probably mostly pass through their systems intact, to be expelled elsewhere - probably, in many cases, a long distance from where they were harvested. So, in addition to pleasing us with their suave elegance (certainly the least important thing that waxwings do), they are important agents of dispersal for plants.

Eastern Cottontails courting

 

Lots of rabbit action in the yard the other night! I glanced out a window to see a male cottontail perform a spectacular courtship leap over a female. So, we waited for more action and were rewarded. In this shot, an adult male and female in close proximity.

Here, the male catapults over the hunkered down female. Their acrobatic courtship displays are amazing. Lots of facing off, racing around after one another, and these leaps in which the male springs over the female.

In this image, a truly elfin rabbitlet, not long out of the easter egg, peeks from vegetation. In total, five rabbits were in evidence and all of them are welcome in my yard, and the more rabbitlets the better. Sorry for the less than stellar imagery, but it was nearly dark when all of this unfolded.

Thirteen-lined Ground Squirrel pops up

 

A Thirteen-lined Ground Squirrel (Ictidomys tridecemlineatus) goes on point. The prairie dog relatives spend much time upright, watching for potential threats. If one is spotted, they will issue a rapid series of squeaking beeps, alerting their brethren, then quickly duck down into one of their burrows.

We visited a colony that I've long known about, in south-central Ohio, this morning. TLGS were a primary target, but temperatures have been abnormally cool around here and it was in the low 50's F when we arrived around 8:30 am. That's a bit chilly for the squirrels, who love temperatures in the 70's, 80's and hotter.

But this site is rich in birds, and we spent much time making images of kingbirds, meadowlarks, mockingbirds, and other species. That was all fun and Shauna and I procured some nice images and had a good time observing interesting behavior in the various species (I am much more of a bird watcher than a birder - at least of the listing type).

Finally, as we were departing around 10:30, with the temperature now about 58 F, this guy shot across the mowed grass, then posed for a bit. Apparently, he was the only one of his clan willing to venture out in the chilly air, even though I know there are a number of others here.

Thirteen-lined Ground Squirrels reach the eastern terminus of their range in Ohio, and their distribution correlates nicely with the pre-settlement distribution of Midwestern prairies. We - people - have been VERY hard on native prairies and probably have destroyed over 99% of it. The charismatic little ground squirrels have suffered as well and are pretty rare in this part of the world these days. I'm grateful that small pockets of the charismatic mammals still persist.

A bevy of salamanders, including an interesting hypomelanistic specimen

 

Your narrator holds one of Dr. Thomas Pauley's many publications on West Virginia salamanders, while posing with the man himself.

For the past 20 years, I have given talks and led field trips at the New River Birding & Nature Festival in Fayetteville. The festival always takes place at the tail end of April/early May, and I highly recommend it. GO HERE for details. This is one of the most biologically rich areas in eastern North America. An interesting part of those biological riches are salamanders, and a few years ago, event organizers got Tom involved. This was akin to striking gold for some of us, and I've had the privilege of going on several nocturnal forays with Dr. Pauley.

This year was no exception, and a small group of us headed into the New River gorge on the evening of May 3. the excursion was even better as we had two of Dr. Pauley's proteges leading us: Josh and Tabitha Stover. They are extraordinary herpetologists, know where everything is, and are incredibly adept at finding secretive amphibians.

The New River gorge, near Fayetteville, West Virginia. It contains scads of interesting organisms, among scenery to die for. For this trip, we descended to some cliff formations down near the river.

A Green Salamander (Aneides aeneus) peeks from a fissure. For us Ohioans, this is a major rarity, and one must know exactly where to go. Down here, they are far more frequent, and we saw many this night.

A Kentucky Spring Salamander (Gyrinophilus porphyriticus) watches us from its lair. We saw several, including one whopper that must have taped out at ten inches. It was a bit wary and backed into his fissure before we could photo-document the mini-monster.

A Seal Salamander (Desmognathus monticola) has a look around before emerging. This is one of the most common species in the area. When we arrived, not long after nightfall, it was dry. Salamander hunting is far better after showers have moistened the ground, and lo and behold, after a bit it started to rain. We couldn't have coordinated the weather any better: after 20 or so minutes of fairly light showers, the precipitation stopped, everything was soaked, and a previously hidden army of amphibians emerged.

My Marsh Blue Violet (Viola cucullata) shot was photo-bombed by another Seal Salamander. Look closely in the bottom right of the image.

A gorgeous Northern Slimy Salamander (Plethodon glutinosus) poses for the camera. Handle one and you will see why they are so named. Sticky skin secretions smack of Elmer's glue. The gloss black base coat liberally peppered with white freckles makes for a very showy creature, though.

We were understandably pleased - who would not! - to see several fine specimens of Red Salamander (Pseudotriton ruber). They are not uncommon here, but generally special efforts must be made to see one. Note the yellow irises. A similar species also occurs, but in lesser numbers, the Mud Salamander (Pseudotriton montanus). It is also bright orange-red and flecked with black spots but has brown irises. It is also well-named, spending much time in soupy mire.

A Wehrle's Salamander (Plethodon wehrlei) marches across a rock. While perhaps a plain jane compared to some of the previous species, it is a handsome creature with its snub nose, big eyes, and delicate saffron flecking. This is another common species in West Virginia, although herpetologists have long noted regional variation in the species. One of these variants has much larger golden spots, so much so that it suggests a Spotted Salamander (Ambystoma maculatum). It was described as a separate species in 2019 and dubbed the Yellow-spotted Woodland Salamander (Plethodon pauleyi). Note the specific epithet of the scientific name: pauleyi. It is named for Dr. Thomas Pauley. A fitting honor for West Virginia's leading herpetologist!

Yellow-spotted Woodland Salamander has a very limited distribution in Kentucky, Tennessee, and West Virginia. I hope to make a trip with Josh Stover later this year to see it, and if so, will report on that with imagery afterwards.

Your narrator, while bumbling about, came across this strange-looking creature, which I thought to be a Wehrle's Salamander, but it didn't fit the mold. Not knowing what to make of it, I called Josh over and he instantly recognized it as a hypomelanistic (abnormally pale) Wehrle's Salamander. None of the rest of us had even heard of such a thing, and apparently this was the first record for the New River Gorge, although Josh says there are pockets of them elsewhere in the state.

All in all, it was a wonderful wet night of salamander hunting, with many interesting finds. I returned to my abode at midnight, dreading the 5 am wakeup the following morning. But well worth the loss of sleep, and I look forward to future West Virginia salamander forays.

Big thanks to Josh and Tabitha Stover, and Tom Pauley, for teaching us about these interesting creatures!

Blue-winged Warbler bags large caterpillar

 

A Blue-winged Warbler (Vermivora cyanoptera) foraging and singing in an American Hornbeam (Carpinus caroliniana). I got to spend about 15 minutes watching the colorful animal hunting, which is entertaining. Blue-winged Warblers are quite active when feeding, and suggest chickadees as they flit through the foliage, dangling acrobatically to snare insects. I was witness to an impressive bag: a very large prominent moth caterpillar, which is in the second image. Unfortunately, no clear shots could be had of this operation. The warbler took the victim to a nearby horizontal branch and proceeded to beat the larva violently by whipping it into the twig. When the cat was suitably mushy, it quickly swallowed the lepidopteran stew. A photo of the warbler with its victim is below. Shawnee State Forest, Scioto County, Ohio, May 7, 2025.

White Slantline Moth on Mayapple flowers

 

A colony of Mayapples (Podophyllum peltatum) resembles a bunch of little green umbrellas thrusting from the forest floor. I photographed this colony deep in Shawnee State Forest (Scioto County, Ohio) on May 7 (2025).

As always, click the photo to enlarge

Fertile plants bear a gorgeous waxy-white flower that arises from the node where the two leaves diverge. The flower is often concealed by the leaves, at least to the upright observer.

It's worth going low to inspect Mayapple flowers, as they sometimes harbor a bit of Lepidopteran magic: White Slantline Moths (Tetracis cachexiata) that resemble the petals, and roost on the flowers during the day. Sometimes several moths can be found on one flower. In short order, I found three White Slantlines - all in separate Mayapple colonies - and surely could have found others had I continued the search.

PHOTO NOTES: I shot the last two images with (as always) my Canon R5 camera, and the amazing Canon 180mm f/3.5 macro lens. This lens was made from 1996 to 2021 and it is one of the sharpest lenses ever made. It also absolutely crushes the background, creating beautiful, creamy bokehs, as can be seen in the last two images. I like its longer reach, as it provides more versatility in how and where one can set up. The 180mm does not have image stabilization, and I made the above image at ISO 200, f/9, and a slow 1/13 exposure. Therefore, a tripod is important, and I have an Oben CTT-1000 carbon fiber tripod. It's miniature, going from ground level to perhaps a foot in height. Perfect for low subjects, and great for stabilizing the 180mm in low-light conditions. That lens also has a tripod collar, so it can easily be rotated while on the tripod.

Swainson's Warbler

 

As always, click the photo to enlarge

A Swainson's Warbler shot from last week in Fayette County, West Virginia. In this region, these warblers typically frequent large tangles of Great Rhododendron, and catching even a glimpse in those thickets can be very tough. This bird occupied a deciduous forest opening and was much easier to see. I kept tabs on him for a half hour and could even watch his sparrow-like foraging behavior: using those big feet and large bill to turn leaves on the forest floor. This warbler is one of the rarest of the 38 extant species of eastern North America breeding warblers, with an estimated population of about 140,000 individuals. As a point of comparison, the Connecticut Warbler, a species much coveted by birders, has a total population estimated at about 1.8 million birds.

Red-eyed Vireo harvests tent caterpillar nest silk

Apologies for the lack of posts of late. I just returned from my annual foray to the wilds of West Virginia to participate in the New River Birding and Nature Festival. While there, I led trips for six days, then Shauna came down and we had an epic trip into the Monongahela National Forest yesterday. There we made many photographs of a variety of interesting organisms, some of which will probably surface here later.

FYI: The New River Birding and Nature Festival takes place late April/early May, and this was its 23rd year. This region of southern West Virginia is exceedingly rich in biodiversity, including birds, and our trips fan out to a variety of habitats. One of the main targets for many people is Swainson's Warbler (I'll try to make a separate post about that later), and the Fayetteville area (where we are based) is an epicenter for them. See more festival details HERE.

While leading the trips for the festival, I take next to no images and only carry my iPhone and my Canon R5 with a 24-105mm lens. The latter of which is used primarily to get group shots, and maybe some habitat images. As a guide, one must remain on point the entire time on the field, and prioritize helping group members get on birds, and learn more about natural history. There isn't time for taking images, although sometimes I experience some inner agony when we see amazing things and I cannot commemorate them photographically. But I get as much enjoyment out of seeing things and learning more about them as I do creating images.

With that in mind, the following photograph is shared courtesy of one of our participants on last Saturday's trip, Carisa Collins. She uses a Nikon point & shoot with an amazing reach and does a superb job of capturing images of various bird species that we see. The story and photo follow.

Photo courtesy Carisa Collins

Last Saturday, Geoff Heeter and I led a trip into the Summit Bechtel Reserve, a massive scout camp property near Fayetteville, West Virginia. We saw many interesting birds, but a personal highlight was seeing this female Red-eyed Vireo (females select nest sites and build the nest) collecting silk from an Eastern Tent Caterpillar (Malacosoma americanum) nest.

When we saw the bird approaching the nest, I thought the vireo was going to raid it for caterpillars (they are the bulk of a Red-eyed Vireo's diet). That would have been interesting, as the only birds that I know of that routinely raid these nests are cuckoos and Baltimore Orioles. Tent caterpillars are heavily beset with spines that inhibit most birds from eating them, and when in their silken nests are well protected from avian predation. Big cuckoos (both Black-billed and Yellow-billed) can rip into the nests and ravage the occupants. While a cuckoo may swipe a captured caterpillar back and forth across a branch in an attempt to remove some of the spiny hairs, they do end up swallowing many, and it is said that dissections of cuckoo specimens have revealed that the stomach linings are liberally fuzzed with hairs that penetrated the lining. I have heard that cuckoos can essentially regurgitate the stomach lining if it becomes too choked with tent caterpillar spines, and can regrow a new one, but haven't verified that.

Less well known is that Baltimore Orioles also feed on tent caterpillars. I made a post back in 2014 about this, with plenty of documentation. See that post RIGHT HERE.

Anyway, the vireo that is the protagonist of this story was only interested in the nest's silk, and she had to struggle to separate the wiry cable-like material. She'd tug and tug and tug before successfully separating a tuft of silk. It'll be used to bond her intricate cuplike nest.

Many people despise tent caterpillars - a native moth - because of the nests which they consider unsightly. That's a very shallow uninformed viewpoint. It is a native moth, the nests do not kill the host tree (cherries), and they spawn scores of insect species that prey on the caterpillars. Many of those insects, many of which are parasitoid wasps, in turn become food for other animals. The adult moths serve as pollinators and are eaten by other animals. Bats, who prey primarily on moths, surely eat many  tentworm moths. And now we know that Red-eyed Vireos - which winter in South America - utilize their nests. Eastern Tent Moths are a major keystone species with far-reaching importance when bird predators are factored in. Both Black-billed and Yellow-billed cuckoos, and Red-eyed Vireo, winter deep into South America, and Baltimore Orioles winter throughout much of Central America, northern South America, and the Caribbean islands. The lowly eastern tent caterpillar is an important part of their life cycle.

A "weedy" yard

 

As always, click the image to enlarge

A big patch of Common Blue Violet (Viola sororia) brightens my backyard. The white flowers sprinkled throughout are a form of this species known as the Confederate Violet (V. sororia forma priceana). I have encouraged violet proliferation by just not mowing them off while in flower, so they can set fruit. It's worked well and I've got scores of purple jots brightening the turf grass that remains. How this native violet could be considered a "weed" is beyond me (although a "weed" is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose). Moreover, spraying toxic chemicals to destroy them, in favor of a flawless emerald blanket of nonnative turf grass is crazy, in my opinion.

I made this shot of this Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus) last April in one of my violet patches. I've seen these woodpeckers in the violets a few times, and I suspect they are hunting ants. Ants are major dispersers of violet seeds, and ants are a major part of a flicker's diet. If having a "weedy" violet-filled lawn means flickers, I'll take it.

This scene is even cooler than the violet explosion, to me. This area is the back half of the backyard (roughly one-quarter to one-third of ALL my remaining "yard"), and not so long ago it was all nonnative turf grass. About four or five years ago, I noticed clumps of a native sedge called Common Wood Sedge (Carex blanda) popping up back here. This is one of our more opportunistic native sedges (there are a few nonnative sedges) and I don't know how it got started here. It may be that I tracked back seeds of the sedge from one of my forays. No matter, it is there, and I adjusted the mowing regime to accommodate it. I just waited until the fruit (perigynia, in sedge-speak) were fully ripe, and then mowed it. The mower broadcast the hard, bony seeds (achenes, in sedge-speak) all over the place, and it worked. Now, 90+% of this part of the "lawn" is now native sedge. That's all I did.

In this shot, the sedge is in full flower. The tannish-brown spikes sticking up everywhere are the staminate (male) flowers. The pistillate (female) flowers are lower on the plant. The sedges only reach four or five inches in height. Unless I learn otherwise, there is no reason to routinely mow this area anymore. The sedge is the perfect height, in my opinion. I'll probably just mow it once annualy, late in the season. At least that's my plan for now. I'm also going to transplant some of the sedges to other parts of the lawn and hopefully get the entire backyard to become a blanket of Common Wood Sedge, interspersed with other various native flora.

While the sedge lawn may, to some eyes, look a bit coarser than the manicured nonnative turf grass that we've been programmed to plant, manage, and cherish, I think the sedge lawn is a vast improvement. Another benefit is that invertebrate life forms have spiked tremendously. The sedge forms a duff layer that seems to be far more conducive to animal life than that of sterile turf grass. One barometer of success is the sheer number of fireflies displaying in summer. Last year they had expanded to the point of dazzling. It was like a laser light show back there. Viewing them from a second-story window reveals that the displaying beetles stay almost entirely over my backyard, with little drift into the neighbors' yards (most of them manage for turf monocultures). Firefly larvae are ground dwellers and predatory, feeding on various small animal life. I would say that the sedge supports vastly more of a duff layer food web, thus the huge spike in fireflies.

If you'd like to shrink your lawn, experimenting with Carex blanda might be worth a try. I haven't researched where one might obtain it, but I think some native plant nurseries carry it. Try googling "Carex blanda nursery" or something like that, and you should find some sources.

Large-flowered Bellwort, and some plant photography thoughts

 

As always, click the image to enlarge

A Large-flowered Bellwort (Uvularia grandiflora), a personal favorite spring wildflower. This plant was long placed in the lily family (Liliaceae), but taxonomic splits in that family have led to the bellworts being placed in the Colchicaceae family, and apparently now it's been shifted to the Convallariaceae family. Wherever we humans decide to place it in our organizational schemes, this is a superb-looking plant.

Shauna and I made an epic trip to southern Ohio last Saturday and saw many species of spring wildflowers. We were mostly in Adams and Scioto counties, where the spring flora comes on significantly earlier than here in central Ohio. We were pleased to encounter many flowering specimens of this bellwort species at the Chalet Nivale Preserve. I find bellworts photographically irresistible and the specimen in the photo was in a particularly good spot for clean imagery, other than being hard to reach.

Shauna snapped this shot of your narrator making the image of the bellwort in the previous photo. It is not far from the base of the limestone cliff, right at my eye level.

While macro lenses are often standard fare for wildflower photography, I went off the reservation for this one. One, that slope was slippery, and scrabbling into position to shoot the bellwort with my 100mm macro lens would have awkward and probably hard on the other plants emerging around the bellwort. So, I bolted the Canon 400 DO II lens to my R5 and attached the rig to my big tripod (A Gitzo, with Wimberly head). While I normally use that tripod and the big lenses for birds and other wildlife, I discovered a long time ago that the big lenses can be superb for plant photography.

With no disturbance to the habitat, using this rig allowed me to get my lens at eye level to the subject. Even though the bellwort was too far for macro photography, I could frame fill it with this lens. As the subject is vertically oriented, I rotated the lens within its collar for a vertical perspective. The position that I liked best put me just inside the minimum focusing distance of the lens, which is about 11 feet. So, I slipped on a 25mm extension tube, and that problem was solved. FYI, in case you aren't familiar with them, extension tubes are just short hollow tubes (no glass) that fit between the camera body and lens. They create a bit more distance between lens and camera which reduces the minimum focus distance. I would highly recommend getting tubes with electronic connectors, so that they don't kill your ability to autofocus.

Once positioning the camera was accomplished, it was time to shoot. Another enormous asset of large prime telephoto lenses is the gorgeous creamy bokeh (background) that they create. Even though that cliff wall wasn't very far behind the subject, the 400 DO obliterated it into a grayish-brown blur. I helped that by shooting at f/5.6. In general, wider apertures are better, in my opinion, for floral subjects. Even though the 400 opens to f/4, I decided I liked the slightly increased depth of field by stopping down one stop. The shutter speed was 1/60, plenty fast enough. But shutter speed is largely irrelevant in plant photography. I have shot multiple second exposures and achieved tack sharp results of wildflowers. As there was a bit of wind this day, I chose to use a slightly higher ISO than normal and set that to 400 so that my shutter speeds could be a little faster than they would be at my preferred ISO of 100 or 200.

Another way to help freeze movement would be the use of a flash. For me, that's almost unheard of with plants. I think flash generally imparts a harshness to the subject and its environs that looks bad. I can assure you, that had I used flash on the bellwort pictured above, it would not look like that, and the look would be worse. I know there are ways to mute lighting from flashes, and I have all manner of diffusers. And corrections can be made later through editing. Nonetheless, flash-free images just look much better to my eye.

To further assist in removing possible movement caused by me, I had the camera's shutter on two-second delay. I also have the R5 set so that a touch of the rear viewing screen will instantly focus the camera on the spot that you touched and automatically start the two second delay. So, I just tap the bellwort's flower in my back screen, move away from the rig, and the camera focuses on the flower, the camera starts beeping and two seconds later it takes the photo. There's no way that I can accidentally bump or otherwise jostle the rig.

Great Horned Owlet, and a favored food

 

A young, and still quite fuzzy, Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus). It was one of two owlets fledged from a nest in a small west-central Ohio woodlot. The stick nest that they were born in looked like an old Red-shouldered Hawk nest to me - not very large, and in the crotch of a large maple about three-quarters the way up the tree. About half of the Great Horned Owl nests in this region utilize the abandoned stick platform nests of raptors and herons, and the other half use natural tree cavities.

The bird in the photo was not long out of the nest but can already make short flights. Its nestmate was in a nearby tree, but much higher up. The female owl was not far off, either.

An Eastern Cottontail poses in a violet patch in my backyard yesterday. At least three bunnies call my yard home, and this one is the largest. He's the size of a small cat.

Great Horned Owls prey heavily on rabbits. I'm sure that the young owl in my photo has dined on rabbit on numerous occasions. The male owl brings most if not all food to the juveniles, with the female pitching in if need be.

Cottontails breed prolifically and one pair can raise scores of kits over a year's time. Most will not make it to the size of the chap above, though. Rabbits are high on the menu for a raft of predators, not just owls.

Years ago, I was trolling a gravel lane in the wee hours in the middle of nowhere in Pike County, Ohio, conducting owl surveys for the Ohio Breeding Bird Atlas. Rounding a bend in the road - at very slow speeds, fortunately - I came across a Great Horned Owl sitting in the middle of the lane, freshly caught cottontail in its talons. The owl was not pleased with my appearance, and if looks could kill I would not be writing this. Its rabbit victim was so large that the owl could not get off the ground with it, so the burly owl physically dragged the bunny to a nearby embankment and hauled its prey up that. I then idled by at close range and on down the road, leaving the winged tiger to its rabbit steak.

An American Robin hunts worms

 

An American Robin (Turdus migratorius) with a just-captured earthworm. 

Last week, Shauna and I traveled to the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area on a whirlwind trip. I was to give a talk (moths) to the Garden Club of Allegheny County on Thursday, so we headed over bright and early on Wednesday to photography waterfalls around the Ohiopyle area.

Upon arriving at our cabin late that day after a photo outing, there was an American Robin on the lawn. Whoop de doo, you might think - robins are one of the most abundant and widespread birds in North America. That's one of their allures, to me. I can go to the wildest northern Michigan forest, midwestern prairie remnants, local parks, urban cityscapes, my back yard, and there they are. The big thrushes are nothing if not adaptable.

But robins are much more than adaptable. The robust caroling song is beautiful and a near ever-present sound of nature. They're showy, too - so much so, that if robins were rare, everyone would go ape over them. Their stout nests are remarkable architectural achievements: an adobe cup that dries to the hardness of a China bowl, and its neatly reinforced with grasses and other vegetation. And the color of the eggs spawned the name of a color: robin's-egg blue.

Anyway, as we took a moment to watch the robin, it suddenly lunged and caught a worm. Cool! Said I, then noted that photographing an American Robin in the act of snagging a worm was still on my bucket list. As there were several robins hunting the lawns, Shauna suggested that I go try and check that item off the list, so I did.

A male American Robin looks and listens for invertebrate prey in the grass. When one freezes, lowers its head and cocks it slightly, action is about to ensue. The robin is using its sensitive ears to listen for worms and other prey, as well as watching with keen eyes.

Bingo! The robin pounces! It has its head way down in the grasses and is about to come up with a favored prey item. I'm not sure the bird could even see the victim and may have divined its location entirely by ear.

PHOTO NOTES: I made all of these images with my Canon R5 and 400 DO II lens. It was coupled to the Canon 1.4xII extender, giving me 560mm of reach. That was plenty. Robins are fairly tame to begin with, and after a while this bird became used to me, and I was typically within 30-50 feet of it. I was shooting wide-open at f/5.6 (without the extender, the lens would be an f/4 of course). As robins in the midst of attacking prey can move with astonishing speed, I used a shutter speed of 1/2500. And, as almost always is best with animals, I was at or near ground level for these shots, to be on my subject's level. And the camera was on electronic shutter mode at 20 frames a second, to capture all of the action.

Unlike the worm in the first image, this one is a monster "nightcrawler". Here, the robin has just seized it and is working to tug the worm from the burrow. While such a task is fast and easy with a tiny worm, it is tougher when a big worm is involved. When under attack, the worm can bunch the powerful muscles that form rings down its body and plug itself into the burrow. Furthermore, worms are beset with rows of external setae - short stiff hairs - that can also help in holding it in place.

The robin tugs with all of its might. The bird is actually off of the ground and leaping/pulling backward. There were a few near extractions like this, and the worm would manage to tug itself further back into the hole. Then the robin would yank harder and in fairly short order it had won the battle.

The worm separates from the ground with great force, as if someone had let go of the other end of a Slinky. Its body coils sinuously as the pressure is instantly released, and the robin had it down the hatch shortly thereafter.

It should be noted that all of the large earthworms in this part of the world, insofar as I know, are not native. They are native to Europe and Asia and were brought over by accident in shipping material such as soils associated with nursery plants. It didn't take long for them to spread far and wide and increase enormously in abundance.

It didn't take long for the clever and adaptable American Robin to learn about worms and make them a large part of its diet.

Fox Sparrows in the yard, and an upcoming sparrow program

 

A handsome rusty-red Fox Sparrow (Passerella iliaca) in the author's Worthington (Ohio) yard on April 4 of last year.

I am fortunate to get Fox Sparrows in the yard nearly every year, but until this winter they have always been migrants and short-term visitors.

Not this year. Two Fox Sparrows have been here since last October, and I see them daily - at least when I'm here to see them - up until the present. In recent weeks, one of them has begun singing and what a song it is. A loud slurry whistled aria, as if the bird had been drinking. But is still largely holding together the notes that comprise its beautiful melody. I walked out at dawn to feed everyone the other morning, and it was like stepping into the boreal forest. The Fox Sparrow was singing, as was a White-throated Sparrow, and a Dark-eyed Junco. At least a dozen of each of the latter two species have also been around all winter.

On March 29, I am giving a photo-rich talk about the Sparrows of Ohio at the Creating Living Landscapes Conference, sponsored by the Midwest Native Plant Society. It's at the Bergamo Center in Dayton, and the event features a fine slate of speakers on a diversity of topics. For full details and registration info, GO HERE. We would love to see you there!

Greater White-fronted Goose

 

As always, click the image to enlarge

Eleven Greater White-fronted Geese (Anser albifrons), along with a Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) forage on a grassy bank of a small lake. About 60 other "speckle-bellies", in hunter slang, where present, along with several hundred Canada Geese, four Ross's Geese (Anser rossii), and two Cackling Geese (Branta hutchinsii).

On February 23, Shauna and I ran down to a nearby pond in southwestern Franklin County (Ohio) to marvel over a flock of about 70 "Speckle-bellies". She had never seen this western species of goose, which was formerly a rare migrant in Ohio, but is becoming much more common. North American populations of this tundra breeder are increasing at an estimated 5% annually, and there are about 5 million Speckle-bellies globally.

A Greater White-fronted Goose drops to the ice for a nap, along with four of its compadres. The air temperature was quite brisk, in the low 20's F. Ice and cold are nothing to the hardy speckle-bellies and these are spring migrants, pushing north on the edge of ice-out.

Map courtesy of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Birds of the World monographs. I am a longtime subscriber, and if you are a student of birds, you should be, too.

Greater White-fronted Geese breed in Arctic regions over much of the globe, and the orange areas represent the breeding range. The speckle-bellies in my images have a long way to go. While there is no way to know exactly where they're headed - Alaska? northern Hudson Bay?, Nunavut? - one thing is clear: they still have a long haul ahead. It is about 1,500 miles to the nearest local that they might nest.

Birds that breed in such northerly latitudes are no strangers to frosty temperatures and icy conditions.

A handsome bird indeed, a Greater White-fronted Goose holds up a foot, enabling us to admire its orange legs. They match its bill quite nicely. We also see why the "speckle-belly" nickname arose. The formal name Greater White-fronted Goose stems from the bold ivory ring around the base of the bill. As the name implies, there is a Lesser White-fronted Goose (Anser erythropus).  It is a Eurasian species of more limited and scattered distribution, and at the risk of stepping into the subjective waters of beauty and what constitutes it, an even showier bird than the Greater White-fronted Goose. It breeds as far east as eastern Siberia - you know, the land that Sarah Palin could see from her house - but there are only two North American records: Attu, Alaska in the Aleutian chain in 2004, and 2013 on St. Paul Island, Alaska, in the Bering Sea (three years after I was there, darn it).

As noted in the first paragraph, Greater White-fronted Geese have increased greatly, both as migrants through Ohio, and in the overall range. A number of factors might account for this, including wetland restoration and increased foraging habitat on wintering grounds, better protection and stronger game laws, and the adaptability of certain large goose species, of which this is one.

Lake Erie waterfowl

 

The iconic Marblehead Lighthouse, near the eastern end of the Marblehead Peninsula. It is one of the most visited spots on Lake Erie.

On February 18, I traveled to Gates Mills, near Cleveland, to speak to the Cleveland Garden Club. This wonderful group has been in existence for 112 years! My subject was moths/conservation gardening. The temperatures were hardly mothy, though, but we were indoors so who cares.

But after that morning talk, I headed an hour and a half west, to the spot in the image above. A very rare (for Ohio) Barrow's Goldeneye (Bucephala islandica) had been present, and it was off the lighthouse up until about an hour before I arrived. It never reappeared during my time, but I am not a big lister/chaser anymore and have seen hundreds if not thousands of Barrow's Goldeneyes elsewhere, both on the east coast, and Alaska. Seeing it in Ohio would have been nice, but c'est la vie.

As always, click the image to enlarge

I was at least as interested - probably more so - in seeing the scads of waterfowl of at least ten species that had congregated on this part of the lake. It was a bit frosty, as the temps hovered around 12 F, and it was a gusty day with wind chills below zero. After nearly four hours of standing along the shore, I felt a little icy.

Enduring the cold was more than worth it. Perhaps 5,000 ducks were in the general area. In this group, most of the birds are Canvasbacks (Aythya valisineria), but Bufflehead (Bucephala albeola), Common Goldeneye (Bucephala clangula), Redhead (Aythya americana), Greater Scaup (Aythya marila) and Lesser Scaup (A. affinis) can be seen.

A quintet of drake Redheads wings past, with a hen amongst them and scads of fowl in the background. The toughness of these birds is incredible. Freezing air, strong winds, and water right at the edge of icing up doesn't faze them. In fact, the scores of common goldeneye drakes were busily courting the hens. This behavior is a true harbinger of spring, and if you've not seen goldeneye courting, it is a treat. The amorous drake throws his head back till it touches his tail, while emitting a loud squeaky buzz. Sometimes he'll kick his bright orange feet/legs from the water. There might be a half-dozen guys doing their aquatic break dancing for one hen, the latter of which seems to studiously ignore them (but she's not).

It was interesting to watch the group dynamics. At times, big flocks of ducks would fly/paddle across the water, barely getting airborne, and move a few hundred yards or so. I assume they were trying to stay over schools of fish such as Emerald Shiners (Notropis atherinoides).

A drake Greater Scaup flies over a duck-filled section of Lake Erie. A hen of the same species floats just to his right, and a drake Canvasback dozes in the rear. In the upper lefthand corner is a hen Common Goldeneye. Many Greater and Lesser Scaup were present, and it was a great opportunity to observe their differences. At first, the two scaup are confusingly similar. In flight, the extent of white on the wings is a good field mark, illustrated by this drake in flight. The white wing stripe extends well out into the primary flight feathers, while on the Lesser Scaup the white stripe is limited to the secondary flight feathers - the wing stripe is much shorter and less conspicuous.

The much hardier and more northerly breeding Greater Scaup is in general much scarcer in Ohio, with large numbers only occurring on Lake Erie in winter. During migration, especially in spring, Lesser Scaup can be abundant, and over 100,000 can accumulate on Maumee Bay near Toledo.

It won't be long, and these birds will have pushed on north and west. This was the first truly cold winter that we've had in a few years, and winter waterfowling on Lake Erie was great.