Lunar eclipse of the "Beaver Moon"

 

The moon, as it looked around 4 am this morning. At the peak of the eclipse, the earth's shadow darkened about 97% of the moon's visible surface.

It was an impressive spectacle, and I'm glad I dragged myself out of bed in the wee hours to observe the eclipse. Fortunately the sky was crystal clear in central Ohio, and the increased darkness around the height of eclipse made the stars shine much more brightly than normal. Selfishly, I was glad that the moon was clearly visible from my backyard, so I didn't have to venture far to see the eclipse.

During the eclipse's peak moments, the sun only illuminated a tiny sliver, and the darkened portion of the moon was cast in a deep reddish-orange hue. This eclipse coincided with November's full moon, which is sometimes known as the "Beaver Moon". Legend has it that this particular phase of the moon coincides with trappers ramping up their efforts to catch beavers. I prefer "Frost Moon", a more accurately descriptive name for November's full moon, which comes at a time of marked seasonal change from fall to winter.

A hodgepodge of natural history

Hi all, and long time, no see! I've been lax in updating this blog, which I normally do once or twice a week. A number of speaking gigs, the final throes of a book project, a few large photography projects and OTHER STUFF have kept me temporarily from my favored duties.

Anyway, here is a very random assortment of photographs that I have run across lately while researching projects, or subjects from fairly recently that I never posted. No story, no theme, just some cool stuff.

American Angle Shades caterpillar, Euplexia benesimilis, on Bulblet Fern, Cystopteris bulbosa, Highland County, Ohio, September 3, 2021.

An American Beech, Fagus grandifolia, towers over lesser trees in a Knox County, Ohio forest. Beech are hyper-productive plants, supporting all manner of wildlife. This large specimen is notable in that no one has carved their initials in the bark - beech are irresistible targets for tree vandals.

An Eastern Tiger Swallowtail caterpillar, Papilio glaucus, rests on a Tuliptree leaf. Liriodendron tulipifera is one of this species' major host plants. Adams County, September 7, 2015.

Daughmer Savanna, probably the best remaining oak savanna in Ohio. Most of our original prairie - 99%+ - has been converted to agricultural lands, or otherwise destroyed. This site is in Crawford County, Ohio, and I made this image on October 9, 2016. "Savanna" is the proper spelling for the plant community, at least in North America and most other regions. "Savannah" is a proper noun typically used as a name for a place or person, such as Savannah, Georgia.

A Dot-lined White, Artace cribarius, photographed in Highland County, Ohio, on June 26, 2021. Who said moths aren't cute?

Frost beards on a Honey Locust tree, Gleditsia triacanthos, in Knox County, Ohio, on November 5, 2021. It was 25 F when I made the photo early in the morning on one of the first truly chilly days of early winter.

The iconic Fallingwater house, perhaps architect Frank Lloyd Wright's most famous creation. Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania, November 14, 2017.

A Master's Dart, Feltia herilis, peeks from a sea of Wrinkled-leaf Goldenrod flowers, Solidago rugosa. Delaware County, Ohio, August 30, 2020.

A Postman, Heliconius ssp., poses on artwork created by the glass sculptor Dale Chihuly. The butterfly is a higher art form, in my opinion. Franklin Park Conservatory, Columbus, Ohio, March 20, 2017.

The showy blue fruit of Silky Dogwood, Cornus amomum. Cedar Bog, Champaign County, Ohio, August 14, 2016.

Sweat Bees in the genus Lasioglossum seek nectar at Clasping-leaved Aster flowers, Symphyotrichum patens. Asters are a major nectar source for pollinators in fall. Scioto County, Ohio, October 30, 2016.

A Tricolored Bumblebee, Bombus ternarius, taps nectar from Sand Dune Willow, Salix cordata, on a Lake Michigan beach. Wilderness State Park, Michigan, May 25, 2014.

Nature: Fast, gravity-defying red squirrels would give Spiderman a run for his money

A red squirrel de-husks a walnut in the writer's backyard/Jim McCormac

Nature: Fast, gravity-defying red squirrels would give Spiderman a run for his money

Columbus Dispatch
Sunday, November 7, 2021

NATURE
Jim McCormac

Four species of tree squirrels occur in Ohio: fox, gray, red, and southern flying squirrels. Of this quartet, I find the high-strung red squirrel the most interesting.

Thus I was pleased when a pair recently took up residence in my yard. The occasional individual has spent time here, but their stays were usually of short duration. The current duo seems committed to the backyard ecosystem. They have even appropriated a cavity in my black walnut tree.

Red squirrels reach peak abundance in northern coniferous forests. Columbus is near the southern limits of their range. This is probably the least common squirrel in Ohio, due to its decided preference for conifers, especially spruce.

These squirrels readily adapt to suburbia, but favor sites with some cone-producing conifers. Even ornamental Norway spruce will do. My neighbors have several large specimens of the latter, and I suspect that’s what drew the squirrels.

The red squirrel is a handsome animal, with a rich reddish-brown pelage, creamy underparts, and thick white eye arcs that impart a surprised look. A strapping specimen is only a foot long from nose to tail tip, and weighs less than a half-pound.

While small in size, red squirrels have enormous personalities. They seem almost psychotically aggressive, and often appear to be in a rage. Even if unseen, their near constant calls give them away. The bellicose mammals sputter out a barrage of chirps, clicks, clucks and discordant chatters. Their wall of sound is accompanied by frenetic flicks of the tail. If suitably irked, they’ll angrily stamp their feet.

My squirrels have developed a walnut fetish. The seeds of spruce cones are their normal stock in trade, but apparently the allure of walnut meat is irresistible.

Unfortunately for the local gray squirrels, they, too, are connoisseurs of the hard-husked fruit.

Fat chance the grays have of harvesting walnuts in my tree. The reds have dominion over the 75-foot tree and its myriad fruit. If a gray squirrel is spotted entering the walnut’s boughs, a red squirrel lights out after it like it was shot from a cannon.

A red squirrel at top speed would embarrass Spiderman on his best day. The red — which is half the size of a gray — tears after the interloper like an arboreal Usain Bolt, quickly driving the rival squirrel from the tree and usually out of the yard.

One possible explanation for this insanely aggressive behavior is the red squirrel’s need to defend numerous caches of cones, nuts, seeds and even mushrooms. The tough little squirrels don’t hibernate, and create warehouses of food tucked in tree crevices and other niches. They draw upon these larders when food sources are lean.

Other animals regularly try to raid the caches, but the vigilant red squirrels soon run them off.

Come early spring, the reds become amorous and begin courtships. This generally entails racing about at breathtaking speed, zipping through the branches and making death-defying leaps. When the female is suitably impressed, mating commences.

Eventually, 4 or 5 tiny naked pink kits are born, and hopefully, in my case, that’ll be in the walnut tree den hole. In only about 40 days, the kits go from blind, 7-gram, amorphous blobs to fully furred and active. After 2 to 3 months, the parents expel the youngsters from their home turf and they strike out on their own.

My neighborhood, I believe, could benefit from additional red squirrels. What better way to enliven peaceful suburbia than with gravity-defying maniacal peewee squirrels imbued with the ferocity of Genghis Khan and the agility of Wayne Gretzky, moving at the speed of bullets.

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.

 

Fall foliage and landscapes

October 29 dawned a wet, cool, and misty day, so I took advantage and headed to southeastern Ohio and the beautiful Hocking Hills region. The main destination was Conkles Hollow State Nature Preserve, a picturesque sandstone box canyon thick with Eastern Hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) and many other tree species. The following photo was made along the Rim Trail, a path that traces the upper edges of the cliffs that define the gorge. Rolling waves of fog moved through the valley, and it was often necessary to wait until the mist cleared enough for photos.

Tenacious Eastern Hemlock trees cling to the cliffs on the sides of the gorge, interspersed with more colorful birch, maple, sourwood, tuliptree and others. The presence of a disjunct stand of hemlock - it becomes common far to the north of here - means a little slice of the boreal forest in southern Ohio. Northern species of breeding birds such as Blue-headed Vireo (Vireo solitarius), Canada Warbler (Cardellina canadensis), Hermit Thrush (Catharus guttatus), Winter Wren (Troglodytes hiemalis)) and other northerners nest here, attracted by the dense hemlock stands.

A steep forested slope rises from a river bottom, anchored by towering Sycamore trees (Platanus occidentalis) with their ghostly white trunks. While the oaks remain largely green, splashes of color are provided by Blackgum (Nyssa sylvatica), Red and Sugar Maples (Acer rubrum and A. saccharum), Tuliptree (Liriodendron tulipifera), Sourwood (Oxydendrum arboreum), Yellow Birch (Betula alleghaniensis), and others.

All of the precipitation flushed local streams with plenty of water, and the numerous waterfalls in this region were picturesque. This one is known as Robinson Falls, formerly called "Corkscrew Falls". It is now protected as part of a state nature preserve, and a permit is required to visit.

A small stream, its rocky banks littered with fallen leaves. One can practically smell autumn in this photo, and in real life the wonderful admixture of scents - overly ripe marcescent foliage, decaying leafy detritus, damp humus - epitomized the scent of fall.

A dashing vine by any standard, at least in fall, a vigorous stand of Poison Ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) blankets a sandstone cliff face. This native member of the Cashew Family (Anacardiaceae) is a heavy-hitter in woodland ecology. Its copious berry production fuels birds galore in fall and winter. Everything from massive Pileated Woodpeckers (Dryocopus pileatus) to comparatively elfin Yellow-rumped Warblers (Setophaga coronata) feast on the fruit. Indeed, Poison Ivy berries are one of the main reasons that the latter species can winter far to the north, unlike most warblers.

Finally, one more vista of the gorge at Conkles Hollow and its massive sandstone cliffs, some of which rise to 200 feet. One of the great pleasures of living in the midst of the great Eastern Deciduous Forest region that cloaks (or used to) much of the eastern U.S. is witnessing the change of seasons. All of them have their own allure, but fall is hard to beat for sheer showiness.

Congrats, Delaware County Preservation Parks!

It's almost 11 pm on Tuesday evening, and I just checked local election results to see this. With 96% of the vote tallied, Delaware County Preservation Parks is showing 60% in favor of their supplemental levy. I hope my congratulations are not premature, but with the percentage of votes already counted, and the margin in favor, I do not see how it could lose.

These additional funds will allow the park district to nearly double in size, in a region growing rapidly and gobbling up land for development. I wrote more about the levy and its need RIGHT HERE.

Thanks to all of the Delaware Countians who voted yes.

 

Delaware County parks levy, November 2 - vote yes!

The Olentangy River in southern Delaware County, near one of the new Preservation Parks' targeted acquisitions.

On November 2, Delaware County voters have an opportunity to positively influence conservation and outdoor recreation in Ohio’s 43rd largest county.

Preservation Parks of Delaware County is seeking a supplemental 0.4 mill ten year levy. If passed, it would generate about $3.7 million annually. This would enable the park district to add five new parks to the existing eleven, and double the current 1,106 protected acres.

The cost to property owners: $14 annually per $100,000 in property market value. That’s 4 cents a day. A great investment to support a return that will reap benefits now, and for many generations to come.

Although Delaware County is mid-sized among Ohio’s 88 counties, its population is becoming outsized. The county is the fastest growing in the state, and now ranks 13th in population size with 215,000 people. Union County to the west is #2 in growth, and Franklin to the south is #4.

Central Ohio is a hotbed of growth, and tangential with that development should come conservation and parks planning.

I met Tom Curtin, the executive director of Preservation Parks, on a recent fine fall day to tour some of their targeted acquisitions. We rendezvoused at Shale Hollow Park. This gem of a place is rich in geology, and lies 6.5 miles north of I-270 on U.S. Route 23. Anyone who drives the 23 corridor between Worthington and Delaware knows firsthand the pace of development in this region.

We headed northeast to a property featuring high quality wetlands near Sunbury. After a short hike through forested land, we burst into a “Category 3” wetland. This is the highest quality wetland, according to standards set by the Ohio EPA.

The wetlands – there are several on this property – are botanical paradises sure to stop botanists in their tracks. I was pleased to see lush stands of hairy-fruited sedge (Carex trichocarpa). While the elegant sedge has a decidedly non-sexy name, it is finicky about where it grows and is often a companion of other unusual plants.

Sure enough, we soon found other notable vegetable matter. Dozens of swamp lousewort (Pedicularis lanceolata) carpeted one wet patch. This interesting semi-parasitic plant thrives in springy wetlands and is rare and local in Ohio. As far as I know, this plant – like the aforementioned sedge – was not previously known in Delaware County.

Our botanical finale was a patch of bottle gentian (Gentiana andrewsii). The stunning tubular flowers are cobalt blue, and pollinated exclusively by bumblebees.

This site would make a superb land lab for student research, as well as an interesting immersion into the world of wetlands for hikers.

Lastly, Tom showed me lands along the Olentangy River, not far south of where U.S. Route 23 and State Route 315 meet. Lush forested slopes stretched from the uplands to the east down to the river. Protection of land along the Olentangy River – one of only 15 Ohio streams awarded official Scenic River status – is critical.

One of the riverfront landowners, Barbara and George Melvin, want to see their family farm conserved. They view the park district as a capable steward of their property and are working with Preservation Parks to ensure their property’s protection.

The accompanying photo of the Olentangy River was taken just downstream from the Melvin’s property. In addition to its aesthetic qualities, the stream harbors a bounty of aquatic animal life, including American rubyspot damselflies, belted kingfishers, smallmouth bass and much more.

It was also near this spot that, in autumn of 1832, pioneer botanist John Leonard Riddell discovered a stunning and previously unknown plant. He named it Aster oolentangiensis – sky-blue aster - the epithet commemorating the river where he found it.

Of Delaware County’s 457 square miles, only 1% is protected by the county’s land conservation agency, Preservation Parks. Passage of the levy will allow for much-needed expansion of green space in a region where development far outstrips land protection.

Forster's Tern

A Forster's Tern, Sterna forsteri, rests on a rail overlooking fishy waters. Note the bird's deformed bill. Its lower mandible was damaged at some point. This tern is an adult, and at least 1.5 years old, and the injury does not look recent. Hard to say what happened, but the bottom line for the animal is whether the damage adversely impacts its fishing ability. We will check in on that issue in a few photos.

One of the sleek birds banks, revealing its long wings and tremendous wing to body ratio. The Forster's Tern is a master aeronaut, and woe to the piscivorous crowd when one these terns hovers overhead.

On an early October trip to Edwin B. Forsythe (formerly Brigantine) National Wildlife Refuge in New Jersey, I had ample opportunity to photograph these graceful terns. Many were present, and I came across a feeding hotspot with numerous birds diving for fish.

This tern's head is canted downward, searching the waters 20 feet below for small fish. When prey is spotted, it will react instantaneously, plummeting to the surface and seizing the victim (although they do often miss - this is not an easy business).

Forster's Tern is named for accomplished 18th century naturalist Johann Reinhold Forster. The irascible Scot was the first to describe the details of this species, although at the time he thought it was a subspecies of the Common Tern, Sterna hirundo.

An observer - especially one trying to photograph a tern with fish in bill - cannot help to notice the rapidity with which terns swallow their prey. Usually they've got the fish down the hatch within seconds of capturing it. There is good reason for their speediness: kleptoparasitism. Many gulls are generally lurking nearby, awaiting an opportunity to force a hard-working tern to drop its fish, which the gull will quickly grab. Such avian piracy forces the tern to not tarry with its meal. In this photo a Laughing Gull harries a tern that for whatever reason did not quickly down its fish. In this case, the tern did manage to wolf down the scaly treat before the gull won out.

Back to stub-bill from the first photo. One might think that its truncated lower mandible would adversely affect its fishing prowess, but I saw no sign of handicaps. It caught a number of fish while I was there, and I managed to photograph one of those occasions. Animals are often extraordinarily resilient in overcoming disabilities, and this bird will hopefully live a long productive life (the oldest known Forster's Tern was 12 years of age).