Drawing on the Clues

A walk through the snowy woods revealed a myriad of clues that not all wildlife migrates or hibernates.

Winter in the North is a resilient and magical time of the year. Enjoying it requires an extra layer of clothing and becoming acclimated, and with time, even 20 degrees above zero can feel balmy. The rewards come in finding a feather on the snow, crystals outlining the burrow of a mink, chickadees searching for a meal, and hearing the courtship calls of one of the earliest nesters in the north, Great Horned Owls.

As a child, I wondered how it was that such a miniature creature as a Black-capped Chickadee could survive the cold of winter; how did its bare, spindly legs keep from freezing or stiffening? A chance to explore the mystery came in finding a bird left over from a hawk’s failed attempt at capturing a meal (Cooper’s Hawk). Carefully opening up the legs revealed that there was little muscle beyond the feather line, rather there were thin, tiny bones, ligaments and vessels.

Without lower leg muscle mass, the arteries and veins of some bird species are arranged side-by-side and entwined so that the warm blood flowing from the body core transfers heat to the cooler blood in the veins traveling up from the feet: heat transference. Clever. This process is regulated by a valve, the sphincter muscles, that diverts arterial blood into a system of heat exchanges like train tracks that branch off in different directions. The result is blood temperature with a nearly complete thermal transfer rather than at some temperature in between.

There is no end to the fascination of how birds are physiologically and anatomically structured for survival, in addition to the ingenious behavioral adaptations. In winter, Black-capped Chickadees have the ability to lower their body temperature at night. This reduces their metabolic rate by nearly half, using far less energy. Physiologically, this is a form of nocturnal hypothermia with the benefit of decreased food requirements during the cold nighttime hours.

Another winter survival strategy of the Black-capped Chickadee is to huddle with other small birds in a tree cavity or other enclosed protected space.

This includes a chickadee roosting box. Plans for building such a box can be found in Woodworking for Wildlife, 3rd edition, by Carrol Henderson, a project of the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, Nongame Wildlife Program.

Drawing on the clues from wildlife, winter is a time for layers, planning ahead, packing snacks for a moonlight ski, and resilience. Listen closely and the winter woods may even echo with chickadees practicing their spring song.

Counting for the Future

One junco, two juncos, three juncos, four… If you can count, identify bird species, or are curious enough to learn on the job from those that can tell a junco from a jay then join the National Audubon Society’s Annual Christmas Bird Count this December 14 – January 5.

Dark-eyed Junco Copyright Alan Stankevitz

This long-running citizen science project (since 1900) is about birds and our global future, but in the moment it is about being together with fun and interesting people from all walks of life and all ages. From a parents’ point of view it’s a great opportunity to have fun together while contributing to a greener world. So, don the winter gear and head outdoors and, just in case there is a mound of snow that rivals “Dead Man’s Hill’ along the counting route, pack the sleds!

Citizen Science
The National Audubon Society’s Annual Christmas Bird Count can be likened to a national science fair project with data contributed by people throughout the U.S.  The question at hand: Are the population numbers of early winter bird species in the U.S changing over time?  With folks from across the United States adding their numbers to the data pool over the past 100 years the collective data is a tool for making conclusions about the population trends of winter birds.  The knowledge can then be applied to the greater scheme of environmental interactions with the goal of making the world a better place for all living things.

Making the Count
Who makes the count? The National Audubon Society’s statistics from the 2010 count include a total of 2,215 counts and 62,624 people contributing to a tally of over 60 million birds! What a great crowd to join.

If traveling a counting route with a van full of energetic toddlers is not your cup of tea, or if you are decidedly a homebody, then Audubon provides options. A count of birds at yard feeders is needed as well. You and your toddlers can sip hot chocolate at the kitchen table while watching the bird feeders on the deck.  Being a part of citizen science requires only time, curiosity, and either a lively group of binocular-equipped companions working a route, or a filled backyard bird feeder. Together, let’s count for the future.

For information on how you can participate in the National Audubon Annual Christmas Bird Count in your area visit, http://birds.audubon.org/christmas-bird-count.

Audubon’s Mission: To conserve and restore natural ecosystems, focusing on birds, other wildlife, and their habitats for the benefit of humanity and the earth’s biological systems.

The photo of a Dark-eyed Junco is copyright property of Alan Stankevitz.  Alan is a contributing photographer to the Wild About books and a pro at capturing birds in action. View more of Alan’s amazing work at www.iwishicouldfly.com Republished from 12/2010.

Late Summer Hummingbirds

The battle is on. Each August through early October our nectar feeders are the staging site for great battles. Small as they are, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are indomitable defenders of their nectar supply.

A tenacious female has decided it is her feeder alone and detours up to three persistent hummers at a time. They have colluded and developed strategies in turn. The most popular tactics are: diversion, the sneak attack, and ganging up.  Rarely do they work. She is incredibly quick on the wing.

The battles come with sound effects as vivid as clashing swords and rolling drums, albeit in diminutive language. I can sit with my camera in hand and feel the brisk air from their wing beats; I can hear the forceful chips of their defense calls and the whirring hum and eventual clash of their wings as they brush the other bird in a split second dodge. They mean business.

Notice the field marks of the adult female Ruby-throated Hummingbird: white throat, green crown, white-tipped tail spread in hovering flight, and a tail that measures longer than the wings.

Powered by wings that move in a unique figure eight pattern, hummingbirds fly forward, up, down, upside down, and claim the title as the only bird with the ability to fly backward. Impressive. Their tiny body is as fluid as a fish and as muscular as an Olympic gymnast as they bend toward flower heads and weave aerial paths through the gardens.

The ‘hum’ of the hummingbird is a result of the air movement from some 50-70 wing beats per second. By way of comparison, most songbirds complete just 10 – 25 wing beats per second during active flight. Imagine how many millions of wing beats that it takes for Ruby-throated Hummingbirds to fly nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico (800 km/500 miles) during migration!

How do they make this long-distance flight across water without refueling? They use the energy contained in their body fat reserves. In the migratory bird world, August through September is the season for fat loading – piling on the calories and bulking up. Some hummers start as soon as breeding season is over in July with the ability for their body weight to double in mass in as few as 7 – 10 days. (Hummingbirds also take advantage of the cooler temperatures of night time migration and weather fronts with a favorable tailwind.)

The long distance migration journey of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds is a test of endurance that not only requires energy reserves, but I suspect it also takes the spunk and determination demonstrated by these tiny acrobats in their late summer nectar battles.

Note: The recipe I use for nectar consists of one cup of white granulated sugar to four cups of water. Boil for one minute and cool before adding to a clean nectar feeder. This recipe can be concentrated during pre- or post migratory season by adding just three cups of water per one cup of sugar. I do not add food coloring as it is not necessary to attract hummingbirds, nor does it add any nutritional value.

All text and photo/video copyright Adele Porter © 2009. See Book References at www.adeleporter.com for resources.

August 2011: Hummingbird Events

If ever there was a hummer of an event to take your children, grandchildren, young neighbors, or a child borrowed from a friend to, the Henderson Hummingbird Hurrah  in Henderson, Minnesota last weekend was it.

Kids wore Ruby-throated Hummingbirds on their faces, arms, t-shirts, and held them in their hands. Yes, they held a hummingbird. Don Mitchell, a certified bird bander was there both Saturday and Sunday for public demonstrations on banding the tiny wonders.
A boy of 4-5 years came up to the author book signing table with his grandparents after having held a Ruby-throated Hummingbird. He was mesmerized. When asked what it felt like, he locked me in his excited gaze and with a deep breath said, “It was really SOFT!”

There were activities for kids not only throughout the two-day extravaganza, but weeks in advance. Kids in the Minnesota River Valley area have had the opportunity to learn about the life cycle of birds and more in an ongoing program that any major metro area would be envious of.

The kings and queens of the day were in full regalia. Bedecked hummingbirds flitted around flower gardens throughout town, including the open garden of the event’s organizer, Dolores Hagan. There were hummingbirds showing off at nectar feeders in prime viewing locations as you strolled around town.

You could also meet hummingbird experts to fill you in on the marvels of these miniature aerial acrobats.  If you ever wondered how many hummingbirds it would take to make a ton of hummingbirds, then naturalist and phenologist, Jim Gilbert (WCCO Radio, KARE 11) was your guy. Or, if you wanted to know how many pancakes you would need to eat for the equivalent of what a hummingbird downs in nectar, Carrol Henderson, Supervisor of the Minnesota DNR Nongame Wildlife Program had the numbers. They had information about hummers in Minnesota and all the way south of the equator. Participants left awe-struck, spilling with new knowledge, and refreshed with lemonade and sweets provided by the hospitality of Henderson.

There were diversions from the world of the tiny at the festival. You could learn about another sky-dweller, the Chimney Swift. Ron Windingstad of the Minnesota Audubon Society was there to clue folks in on these mosquito devouring patrollers. Folks skilled with a hammer learned how they could build a Chimney Swift roosting structure. In the land of ten thousand lakes and billions of mosquitoes, Chimney Swifts are the kind of friends to keep in the neighborhood. There is still time to get in on the second half of the Great Minnesota Chimney Swift Count scheduled for the last weekend in August.
For more information contact Ron Windingstad, 651.739.9332, ext 14 or rwindingstad@audubon.org.

The location of Henderson, Minnesota was worth the trip in itself. Situated along the winding shores of the Minnesota River, the town is quaint with well cared for historic buildings and filled with friendly people just waiting to tell you thank you for coming. I am already looking forward to the Fourth Annual Henderson Hummingbird Hurrah.

All text and photographs copyright Adele Breton Porter 2011.

By the Light of the Moon

Sleep on moonlit spring nights has long escaped me; adventure is overhead. By the light of the moon and compass of the stars birds by the thousands are winging their way north along the great skyway; giant winged swans, checker-patterned loons, geese, swallows, kinglets, nuthatches, wrens, long-tailed thrashers, orioles, bobolinks, sparrows, shorebirds, ducks, woodcocks, and the mini-acrobats of the air – hummingbirds.

"Mystery of the Missing Migrants" Copyright Charlie Harper

The majority of species that migrate do so by night. Theories as to why include taking advantage of the cooler temperatures to reduce the risk of heat stress and dehydration, calmer atmospheric conditions, less predation and more time to rest, feed, and rebuild much-needed energy stores during the day. Birds do not depend on moonlight to migrate at night, in fact, it is believed by some that the bright light of a full moon may interfere with celestial navigation cues and that a few nights to either side if a full moon is more advantageous.

Plump up your pillow on an open windowsill, settle in, and listen. Many species communicate with migration calls along the route. Some calls and sounds you may recognize like the honk of Canadian Geese and the whistle of Mourning Dove wings. Other calls are only heard in flight like the “tseet’ of the Song Sparrow and the “tvit” and “psewi” of the Barn Swallow. Kids looking for a project to do with their parents can build their own roof top microphone for a small investment. These simple gadgets can pick up migration calls that otherwise may be missed.

You won’t need to stay awake all night. Most birds begin their night flight just after sunset and carry on until around 2 pm with peak hours between 11 pm and 1 am. The strongest predictor of a migration wave is the weather. To save valuable energy birds take advantage of weather fronts and air masses moving in their direction. To track weather and migration movements, visit NEXRAD (National Center for Atmospheric Research) for real-time radar images of weather patterns and aerial bound objects (birds, etc.)

Before radio tracking and radar came along population estimates of migratory birds were determined by counting the number of silhouettes passing in front of the moon in combination with the identification of calls unique to each species.

Focus a spotting scope, binoculars, or telescope (20X – 40X) on the full moon and you too can take count. The tricks to this method are a steady tripod, taking visual breaks every ten minutes, and establishing a point of reference for determining the size of the birds’ silhouette. Tycho, the most easily seen moon crater makes a handy reference. Is the bird silhouette much smaller than the crater, a quarter, a half, or the full size of the crater?

Moonlighting with family and friends on a spring evening is both an adventure and an opportunity. Kids have likened catching a glimpse of a bird flying across the moon to catching a fish – the thrill is unmistakable. A short night of sleep is well worth sharing the wonder of migration by the light of the moon.

All text is copyright Adele Porter 2009. See Book References (www.adeleporter.com) for resources.

“Mystery of the Missing Migrants”  Copyright Charlie Harper

The Language of Birding

Opening the time-worn pages of an antique bird book is like lifting the lid of a treasure chest. Extinct species may wing their way from the intricately detailed illustrations. Words are laced in colorful verse written before the modern era of bulleted text and scrolled digital headlines.  Rummaging through the introduction lends an understanding of the author’s choice in presentation: did the author follow a standard format, or has she/he dared to step out with a unique approach custom fit for the targeted reader?

A friend recently gifted me a jewel written in 1920 by Frank Chapman, What Bird is That? A pocket Museum of Land Birds of the Eastern United States arranged According to Season.  Frank Chapman was the curator of birds at the American Museum of Natural History. The book format is a reflection of how the very subject was approached with visitors to the museum.  To get to know the birds of New York, one could stroll by the depiction of New York in spring, linger in front of summer, meander by fall, and marvel at the hardy birds of winter.  The novice bird watcher could then shortcut the search when attempting to identify a bird.

There are various strategies to presenting bird identification in a beginners’ bird watching guide: family order, color, size, habitat, or season.

Experienced birders frequently use references arranged by taxonomic order. The basis for taxonomic order is solid science including DNA evidence and easily negotiated once bird families and their characteristics are familiar.  Taxonomic guides are also essential in determining subspecies, etc.  Most beginners however, are daunted by the seemingly random order – it is like choosing from a menu written in a foreign language.  With birds often listed by their Latin name first and common name second, they have good reason.

Learning the language of birding is not unlike learning other languages, including that of computers.  From the words of a ten-year old that could negotiate his way around the cyber world like Luke Skywalker through space, “Get in there and learn by trial and error – everyone is learning the new programs at the same time.”  Novices may not be learning new birds with everyone, but they are not alone.  Those new to birding are often reluctant to spout their knowledge for fear that their inexperience will show.  There is forward movement in a missed ID and often the corrected information becomes imprinted in memory. It is a given that we will all call out a missed ID, no matter how many birds our binoculars have zoomed in on.

Autumn is the time to trek to a national wildlife refuge to witness migratory birds by the thousands, walk with a friend to a local park, and to rest the lawn rake long enough to hear the chips of a cardinal in the backyard shrubs. The rewards are in the experience, whether or not birds are readily identified.

For those that want to know birds by name, look close to home on these late fall days for brilliant male Northern Cardinals and their subtle mate, and for Black-capped Chickadees, Dark-eyed Juncos, White-breasted Nuthatches, Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers, Blue Jays and… there is a small bird at the thistle feeder that has just flown up from the open field (habitat), is in pale yellow winter plumage (color), is about five inches long (size), and looks like a type of finch (family.  Go ahead, shortcut the search with the aid of a bird guide of your choice and call this bird by name.

All text copyright Adele Porter 2009-2010.
Book plate and cover from, What Bird is That? A pocket Museum of the Land Birds of the Eastern United States arranged According to Season.  By Frank Chapman, Copyright 1920.  D. Appleton-Century Company, New York.

Spring Prairie Fire at Crawfish Bottom

This is a reprint of an earlier post in remembrance of a man with a deep connection to the land. Roland passed away November 3, 2010.

Anticipation. Spring comes gradually in long-awaited events: birds  returning to the north along the Mississippi flyway, sap flowing in the maples, the “Ok-a-leeee” of red-wings staking their claim, and tallgrass prairies whispering the memory of cyclic fires.

In the spring of 2005, my friend Roland called to announce that the day we had been waiting for had arrived – his prairie was ready to burn. Managing a native prairie is a science. There is consideration to the soil type, plant species and seed maturity, amount to burn in quadrants or even sections of a quadrant; to weather, moisture, wind, and the position of rare wildlife.

The science of burning is also understanding the necessity of fire to sustaining a healthy prairie ecosystem and the micro-environments within it: the need for seeds to be scared by fire in order to germinate, for nutrients pent-up in the vegetation to be released into the soil, for the competition of non-native plants to be set back by the strength of native plants to recover quickly and with more vigor, and for a myriad of reasons that are yet undiscovered but exist as sure as the cycle of life improves upon itself with each revolution.

When I arrived Roland was in his element. Dressed in his ever-present striped overalls and cap, his usual solid color shirt had been replaced with a red, orange, and flame plaid shirt. At 91 years old, he was as animated as a boy riding his horse for the first time. “Let her burn!” he bellowed.

The grasses were lit and the fire flew across the prairie in a race with an American Bittern flushed from the marsh. Fierce red flames reached 12-15 feet high leaving smoke to roll across the land like dust from a buffalo herd on the move.

The flame ignited in Roland the need that prairie men thrive on, meeting nature on its terms. Whether it is driving to town in a blinding blizzard or driving through fire – it must be done. So it was, all the way to the other end of the smoldering 126 acres. He wanted to scout for the stake that we had pounded in the ground years before to mark the location of a rare plant. Driving across glowing cinders in his Buick LeSabre was an adventure in risks. Smoke and steam billowed from under the car hood. I considered that a spark from the embers had overheated a component in the engine. Roland was not to be dissuaded. He drove the LeSabre on through the smoldering ashes as our heads bumped the car roof with every crossing of a former trail rut, waterway, or animal burrow.

“Do you see the roll in the land on the northern horizon, Adele? That is where the prairie chickens used to dance. Look at the wet area, there used to be quail (Bobwhite) in here too and the birds with the long legs (Upland Plover) that Mom came to listen to, they are still here…” Local history was laid out like a map before me.

We found the stake, the very place where the endangered plant sends up its exotic bloom. It is the flower that graces Anna’s gravestone, his beloved wife of 64 years. He needed to be assured of exactly where he could watch for her favorite flower to unfold on this former glacial lake bed nicknamed Crawfish Bottom.

The anticipated events of spring feed us between the long spaces of winter in these open landscapes. I had waited out snow and ice to see the prairie on fire – to see Roland revel  in the ancient scape. Keepers of the Land, Roland and Anna were land stewards as rare as the very ground they preserved. They offered a living land museum for the primal rituals of spring to unfold.  For their stewardship and foresight, I am profoundly grateful.

Note: Roland and Anna’s prairie is tended by and in the  stewardship of their family. In the summer of 2005, Roland and I met his grandson at a StoryCorps booth to record his story of the prairie. This is also archived at the Library of Congress. For more information about StoryCorps, http://storycorps.org/

The photo of the Bobwhite Quail is copyright property of Alan Stankevitz. Alan is a contributing photographer to the Wild About books. You can view his portfolio at www.iwishicouldfly.com

Roland at Crawfish Bottom, 2005, Spring Prairie Fire, and all text copyright Adele Breton Porter, 2009/2010 reprint.