A cold but rewarding day at the pond!

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On 29 November our area had its first really cold morning of the season, dawning at 25°F (-3.88°C). I fortunately had gotten my spring bulbs and seeds in the ground a few days earlier, so I was mostly ok with it except feeling bad for the outside critters having to deal with morning frost in the coming weeks.

There were still a few very hardy flowers blooming in the yard; a few were eaten by the deer, which was ok with me. However, the neighborhood honeybees had slim pickings, which may be why I suddenly found them swarming the nectar feeder which I’ve left in place in case a winter hummer shows up!

So before doing needed grocery shopping, I stopped at a local pond. The parking area near the path to the water is in an area usually filled with birds but scarcely any wildlife was to be seen. A song sparrow briefly popped up, but it was very quiet. Finally, I heard some pecking and there was a yellow-bellied sapsucker working on a new row of sap holes in a nearby tree.

 

Walking towards the pond, I crossed a bridge over the feeder creek. Usually, this area has numerous birds but not a sound or movement was present. When I started nearing the pond, I finally spotted mallard ducks — 16 as far as my count through the trees could tell.

A pair of geese was perched on a stump, and they seemed to be just chilling out, preening, paddling and resting.

Scarcely any other birds were around; a few sparrows popped up quickly and some turkey vultures were parked in area trees.

   

Finally, I noticed the great blue heron perched on the beaver lodge, not moving a muscle or feather. Its statue imitation was impressive. I began walking back and forth along the shore, hoping to spot wildlife but the cold even had the bugs laying low.

After a while, I figured it was cold enough to make the visit shorter than usual when I was stopped by the sight of a couple new dark lumps on the beaver lodge behind dried vegetation..

It turned out to be a couple of otters — a delightful sighting to be sure even if not clear as they were far away behind dried vegetation.

After waiting to see if the otters would leave their resting spot, I decided they had settled down for a lengthy nap. As I turned to leave, I suddenly saw movement and the two otters slipped into the water, with me turning and trying to get a few quick photos.

They swam quickly to the beaver dam, crossed and dropped down to the lower swamp on the other side.

I counted myself lucky to have seen them and was pleased with this unexpected encounter. I stared at the dam hoping for some movement, saw nothing and again began to leave when suddenly a head popped up again.

To my astonishment, not one, not two, but four otters came over the dam and swam over to the far shore behind the beaver lodge. They were going fast and I only got glimpses, but it was still so rewarding to see them.

They were underwater much of the time but finally popped into view at the edge of the pond vegetation behind the lodge.

They were obviously feeding on something, but it wasn’t possible to see what they were catching.

They moved along the shoreline, swimming together and alone.

The otters must have been having considerable feeding success because the heron left the beaver lodge and began following them along the shoreline.

I tried to follow along on the other side of the pond and caught glimpses of them until they disappeared into a vegetation-heavy area of the pond. The heron kept following them so they must have been good guides to where the foraging was rewarding.

It finally became time to really call an end to my pond visit, so I left along the path which was still almost wholly silent without bird song. Back near my car, the sapsucker was still busy in the same tree working on the same line of new sap holes. The woodpecker had obviously found itself a good feeding spot and I felt fortunate, too, to have had a surprise encounter with those beautiful sleek water mammals at the pond.

        

This sighting was indeed something to be thankful for the day after Thanksgiving. It followed my chance a few days earlier to see our county’s first tundra swan on record. A friend alerted me to its presence and many people went to our county’s water reservoir, where the bird was hanging out far across the lake. Some very cool sightings to mark a holiday week! 😊

(Apologies for the somewhat blurry photos but the wildlife was fairly distant and my camera lens is no longer working optimally. But I still wanted to share the good fortune of these wildlife sightings!)

Small, feisty and fascinating — my favorite herons!

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Well, time has passed again quite quickly since my last blog (at least for me), but I hope you find this posting worth the wait! I’d like to introduce you to my favorite herons.

There are 16 heron species in the USA, and many are fairly large birds. But my favorite is the smallest one — the green heron (Butorides virescens)!

They are sometimes considered rather “secretive” birds, avoiding being out in the open or in full sight. When they sit and stalk near vegetation, they can indeed be difficult to spot.

Even when flying, they can blend in well with background bushes and trees.

This year I was fortunate enough to see them out and about fairly often. They accommodated birders by staying for a while at four different ponds and a small lake.

What used to be a decent pond behind a shopping center was drained a couple years back and became a barren and often trashy area. The beavers who helped keep it water-filled were chased away. But when our area had copious rains in late summer this year, the pond filled partly and sometimes fully. A pair of green herons took up residence for several weeks alongside mallards, a lone hooded merganser, a young ibis, some egrets and little blue herons.

     

Green herons are known by various common names, some of which I find rather weird:

  • Fly-up-the-creek (likely inspired by their swift flight when startled or disturbed)
  • Poke (perhaps referring to how they forage)
  • Shitepoke (referring to their projected fecal matter; see left!)
  • Chalkline
  • Indian Hen and
  • Chucklehead.

In my experience, great blue herons tend to ignore people for the most part, but the greens always seem very aware of our presence and sometimes curious about why we’re watching. So, I might be inclined to give them a nickname like Puzzlers, befitting their sometimes-intent perusal of watchers.

 

 

When not stalking prey, these herons often perch or stand with their long neck pulled in and they look like they’re hunching their shoulders. When you see their neck extended, though, you get a good idea of how tall they can be!

 

 

Other herons are not quite as colorful as the greens. These small herons change their appearance much more, displaying feathers of white, cream, chestnut, green, brown, gray and black colors. This is set off against a pair of yellow or orange legs, making for quite an attractive bird.

     

     

The green herons are among the tool-users of the animal world. They fetch different items to serve as bait to lure fish to the water’s surface, including insects, bread, leaves or feathers. They mostly look for prey while wading along waterways or stalking in shallow areas. Occasionally, they also go after prey in deeper water, evening diving in and needing to swim back to land.

Their diet can be varied, including animals such as frogs, tadpoles, lizards, crayfish, snakes, dragonflies, grasshoppers and other insects, and sometimes small rodents.

This summer I saw one green heron catch a very large frog that was at least as long as its beak, if not longer. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a clear photo as my camera has been malfunctioning. ☹

After watching them often, it’s still not entirely clear to me why they sometimes raise their crests. Perhaps it’s a way of warning those around them that they are on the alert and not willing to share space. I do think it gives them an attractive look, although they can be stunning when simply resting on a branch while they survey the surrounding area.

At the end of August, I thought the greens had begun moving on to their winter abodes as I wasn’t spotting them. But then a few days ago, I caught one chilling out at a vineyard pond with no other wading birds in sight.

               

My late summer sighting was perched on branches at the pond’s edge, standing on one leg. Since a large snapping turtle was floating right behind him/her, I hoped that the other leg was simply tucked up under its feathers — and luckily, that was correct.

A threat to these entertaining birds is the alteration and loss of wetlands, which are proceeding quickly. Green herons are not (yet) among the birds whose survival is threatened as a species and individuals can live as long as 9 years. Nevertheless, this year the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service reported that wetland loss rates have increased by 50% since 2009 and North Carolina, where I live, was particularly affected.

This continuing decline can only be stopped with more action to preserve existing wetlands, as well as measures to deal with the effects of climate change. I very much hope that I’ll be able to continue seeing the green herons and other wetlands wildlife for a long time to come.

An hour at a local pond

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There is a pond in the county where I live that used to be a real hot spot for birds and other wildlife. The dairy farm fields around it had lots of native vegetation, which was very welcoming to avian wildlife.

A couple years ago, the farmers retired, and the property was purchased by a vineyard owner to expand his holdings. He cut down most of the vegetation around the pond and along the road bordering the fields. He has turned most of the fields into vineyards, keeping only small portions untouched where birds can still find some refuge.

I used to see a yellow-billed cuckoo return from migration to a small patch of trees there every spring. This now is a thing of the past. However, some pond-edge vegetation had been regenerated, and a little bit was planted, so some birds are hanging in there. They still make for some interesting birding. Here is what I saw on a recent visit.

The largest birds that keep returning to the pond are the great blue herons. Sometimes there is one; other times there are two or three. Occasionally a green heron flies in or over but none stopped by on this occasion.

The heron often has good days fishing there. I often see him/her snag at least one fish and often more than one.

The heron stalks along the pond and frequently flies across to the other side for a change of venue. Perhaps the fish manage to hide well once they realize s/he is stalking them.

It’s wonderful to see the heron’s wings spread as the bird alights and then begins stalking again.

Eastern bluebirds had taken advantage of an electrical installation next to the pond (which also serves as a resource for the local fire department as needed). They not only used it as a perch for bug seeking but also built a nest inside it. I wondered what the new owner would do.

 

   

To my great surprise, his problem was solved by the local electricity company. They removed the birds’ original nest and put it into a temporary nest box!

    

Mom and Dad bluebird were guarding the nest space, but it looked like they were still getting used to the new digs.

While watching the bluebirds, I suddenly heard a commotion in front of me, but I couldn’t see what was happening behind the bushes at the pond’s edge (I’m short!). However, I could tell that a bird was in distress. I wondered if one of the huge snapping turtles had caught a duckling. I walked further along and saw one of the two resident female wood ducks (above) swimming away from the area.

No ducklings followed and I feared the worst. One mother had five ducklings (above) while the one swimming away had lost one a few weeks before. Now I wondered if she had lost others, too. Luckily, I later saw her return to the area and shepherd four ducklings across the water to the other side.

 

In the small bit of meadow immediately adjacent to the pond, red-winged blackbirds are now nesting. One pair has a nest close to the road and they are warning visitors away with constant flights along the pond’s edge, while the male calls repeatedly.

 

The female was taking breaks from warning-off flights to enjoy an occasional meal, at this time consisting of one of the remaining periodical cicadas that emerged recently.

She wasn’t the only one seeking these insect delicacies. Two Northern mockingbirds were also intently examining the area under a tree for them. One finally had success in snagging a cicada. (For more about the cicadas, see my previous two blogs!)

  

The male red-winged blackbird was very busy keeping “intruders” as far as away as possible from their nest. He warned off the great blue heron, who was actually pretty far away. (He is flying away from the heron on the left side of the photo.)

He also went after a red-tailed hawk, who appeared soaring overhead.

Common grackles, often present at this pond, will also chase away these hawks. There weren’t any around to join in the foray this time, but the photos below taken at another pond show how they go after the red-tails.

I looked at a small patch of chicory across the road to see if any bobolinks, grosbeaks or meadowlarks were around. I love this plant and planted some seeds in my own yard, hoping to attract more pollinators and birds. So far, they have not sprouted.

 

Below you see a young blue grosbeak and a pair of Eastern meadowlarks who were in the patchy field spots another time.

 

Usually, several types of swallows frequent the pond, including purple martins, tree swallows, barn swallows and Northern rough-winged swallows. I only saw a couple of the latter this day and only got poor flight photos as my camera began acting up, refusing to focus.

Staring hard across the pond, I did manage to spot three killdeer, four least sandpipers and a couple other sandpipers that I couldn’t immediately identify. I later learned that they were semipalmated sandpipers, which I hadn’t seen there yet. (If you click on the photo, you see it larger; then go back to the blog.)

That hour at the pond didn’t turn out to be a super one for capturing stellar photos, but it was definitely a great one for relaxing, observing the action and appreciating nature again!

They’re baaaack!!! — and so am I! Part 2

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But the Great Southern Brood of periodical cicadas is getting ready to leave…!

Having heralded their appearance in my previous blog, I’d like to share a bit here about what these insects are now facing as they expend their remaining energy on ensuring the survival of their species.

Some of our community members (both animal and human) are as appreciative as I am that these creatures are here. In listserv postings, a few people have commented, for example:

  • Sounds great.
  • I guess I am rare in thinking they are cool. It feels other worldly….
  • And it’s all about SEX. Just think about all those teenage hot-rodders gunning their engines to attract attention. They’re all saying “Come and get me baby. I’m HOT.” After years underground, you would be, too.

It’s almost impossible to miss the cicada phenomenon where I live unless you have hearing or vision problems or can’t get outside. Their calls for gathering and hooking up can reach a level of 100 decibels and this continues for hours on end.

The sounds can vary a bit because the Great Southern Brood comprises several species of periodical cicadas with somewhat different songs.

However, it seems that quite a few people don’t pay attention to the broadcast or print news. Despite the considerable coverage given to the cicadas’ appearance, inquiries about the ongoing noise continue in listservs, irritating some community members:

  • Please stop asking about the sound cicadas make! Please! And if someone answers, why do 50 people feel the need to respond? I feel that so much of the posts are so religious. Does anyone else feel this way?… I didn’t mean religious! I meant repetitive!
  • Cicadas are a plague sent from God signaling the End Of Time. The purple glow in the sky last night [Northern Lights] was the Rapture, and, since we’re still here … well, there’s that…
  • If you don’t like it, stop looking at the posts.

The numbers of cicadas we’re seeing really is amazing. They need an enormous population because that is how they ensure some will live long enough to reproduce. These insects have no physical or chemical defense mechanisms at all. Many will succumb to diseases and predators.

One particularly strange phenomenon is a fungus that attacks the cicadas. Massospora cicadina has evolved to target periodical cicadas. The cicada nymphs can become infected when they dig their way out of the soil.

The fungus is a chalky white substance that destroys their reproductive organs but does not kill the insect. As the infection progresses, the male cicada continues to move around and tries to mate. Eventually, the back part of its abdomen drops off and we can see the white fungal growth. But the cicada doesn’t die from this and continues trying to find a mate!

Image by Katja Schulz, CC BY 4.0. Reproduced with permission from  <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

The cicadas also have no means to fend off predators and they are a highly desired food source for other creatures. Those who eat them include snakes, spiders, beetles, wasps, opossums, squirrels, raccoons, frogs, dogs and even people.

This unfortunate individual died early on during the cicada emergence and the local ants found it on my driveway.

These cicadas are especially vulnerable to avian predation. I’ve now seen different species of birds chowing down on them, including grackles (below) and robins.

The red-bellied woodpeckers seem to have a particular fondness for them. A young woodpecker was hoping that its parents would provide them as a meal, but the parents were eating the insects themselves.

A Northern cardinal stopped by for a meal.

The resident male Eastern bluebird in my yard was supervising his three rapidly maturing fledglings in their efforts to catch and consume the large insects.

His mate was already tending another nest of 5 eggs, so he was occasionally feeding her as well, including cicada tidbits.

Given the enormous numbers of cicadas that have arrived, some are managing to stay alive and healthy so they can mate. The females may lay as many as 600 eggs in nests dug into plant stems.

After 6-10 weeks, the eggs hatch and the nymphs crawl down to the earth to go underground for their 13-year “hibernation” period.  There they will eat sap from tree roots, undergo their molting and live out their lives with the people walking above or near them having no idea that they are there.

My chances of seeing the members of Brood XIX again are likely not so great, but perhaps some of you readers who live in the northeastern USA may get to see them emerge again then. If so, I hope you will find them fascinating, too!

 

 

They’re baaaack!!! — and so am I! Part 1

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The Great Southern Brood is here!

It’s been over a half year since I’ve written a blog (although I’ve penned a monthly newspaper column and a few articles in the meantime). Numerous concerns including ill health kept leading to blog postponements. Fortunately, I’ve been able to continue my nature observations, a boon to keeping things on a somewhat even keel. And lately it’s been my privilege to see some interesting creatures and to witness behaviors I’d not seen before in person.

The immediate inspiration for resuming my blogs has been the emergence of the Great Southern Brood XIX (Magicicada spp.) of periodical cicadas — an animal species which humans only get to see every 13 years! This is the largest cicada brood in eastern North America, which is the only geographical area where they occur. I’ll share some of my current sightings and interesting tidbits about them and hope you enjoy this in a two-part blog.

Periodical cicada eggs, laid above ground, hatch into nymphs which then go underground to pass through five juvenile stages before emerging 13 years later by the hundreds of thousands (even millions!). After emergence, they only live a few weeks, purely for the purpose of finding a mate and reproducing their species.

One of the first noticeable things to alert humans to the coming “deluge” of cicadas, seen above, is the appearance of numerous holes in the earth as they tunnel out to the fresh air. This happens when the ground reaches a temperature of about 64°F/17.8°C.

What emerges from the holes are brownish-tan nymphs, who crawl onto plant stems and tree trunks. Underground, they will have undergone four moulting periods as they grew during the past 13 years.

The vegetation becomes laden with these still immature insects almost everywhere you look.

   

The adults emerge from their last exoskeleton through the back, which splits open. If you look carefully below, you can see one emerging on the right.

The newly emerged cicadas then undergo a quick maturation process within an hour or so.

They must unfurl and flex their new wings.

Their orange eyes take on a deep red — in my view mesmerizing — hue.

     

Seen head-on, their faces look to me as if there is a car grill in the middle.

The adults can’t fly right away after emergence but must make several attempts to get airborne.

When the adults are ready to meet, the males begin making calls and songs, using a pair of ridged membranes on their abdomens. Some calls are a sign to gather; others are alarm calls made when the cicadas are handled.

 

 

Their hollow abdomens are thought to act as a resonating chamber, increasing the volume of their already-loud sounds, When they gather in groups of hundreds and more, the volume can be astounding, reaching the level of a chainsaw or motorcycle.

 

In our area, numerous inquiries on neighborhood listservs commented on the growing and ongoing noise:

  • Is there a sound like a siren going off that you can hear? It seems to be getting louder.
  • Perhaps the machines grinding rocks to expand I 40 [highway].
  • Alien invasion 😂
  • The noise is continual with no change in pitch or volume. Sounds man made.
  • This is some sort of machine or something running all day long.
  • I was so intrigued as well that I called the energy company to investigate the cause of the intense noise!
  • Miniature Flying UFOs made to look like Cicadas.
  • This morning, I walked inside my house looking 👀 for the toilet that I thought was running.

Some people made analogies for what they thought the cicada ‘songs’ were like:

  • To me it sounds like alien spaceships are landing – just like in a 1950’s creature feature.
  • It sounds like the flying saucers in old 1950s movies.
  • I think the 13-year bunch sound like the phasers on the original Star Trek show.
  • To me they sound just like 18wheel rigs all revving up their engines.
  • The sound to me is like “environmental tinnitus”. 🙂 [Response] Exactly, but it actually helps my tinnitus!
  • Sounds like heavy traffic in another decade or two with everyone driving electric vehicles. [Response] My hybrid has that same sound (only quieter) to warn people/animals that I am backing up. When my car is operating under battery power, it’s silent, so manufacturers added that sound to warn people and wildlife away. You are so right. That may be the sound of the future. AAAAGH!

Others appreciated this natural phenomenon:

  • Sounds great.
  • I guess I am rare in thinking they are cool. It feels other worldly….
  • And it’s all about SEX. Just think about all those teenage hot-rodders gunning their engines to attract attention. They’re all saying “Come and get me baby. I’m HOT.” After years underground, you would be too.

Finally, some listserv readers tired of all the comments after a while:

  • Please stop asking about the sound Cicadas make! Please! And if someone answers, why do 50 people feel the need to respond? I feel that so much of the posts are so religious. Does anyone else feel this way?… I didn’t mean religious ! I meant repetitive!
  • Cicadas are a plague sent from God signalling the End Of Time. The purple glow in the sky last night [Northern Lights] was the Rapture, and, since we’re still here … well, there’s that…
  • If you don’t like it stop looking at the posts.

In the next blog, I’ll explain a bit more about the periodical cicadas’ vulnerabilities and life cycle. And hopefully you’ll enjoy seeing some more photos of these creatures who won’t see the light again until 2037!