Killdeer Memories

The Killdeer can often be heard calling out it's name
 as it flies across the countryside.

It was May of 1962 when my family moved from the South side of Batavia to a newly constructed home on North Spruce St. in the Northeast corner of the city. Prior to moving there I had experienced feelings of trepidation, the angst of leaving old friends behind. However, any misgivings I might have had dissipated while we were still unloading our belongings.

A young lad the same age as me; his name was Pete Tierney, my  neighbor as it turned out to be, stopped to say hello. What’s more, just beyond our new home was a large stubble field and beyond that a swamp, both of which were bordered by a vast woodlot. Pete and I became fast friends from the start, exploring the woods, swamp, and fields as any curious and nature-loving twelve-year old boys would. 

      

It’s been fifty four years since my first spring on Batavia’s Northside, to a time when my attention was drawn to a number of strange-looking birds with a shrill call. Pete told me they were Killdeer, and together we discovered how they would feign a broken wing if you happen to get too close to their nest and/or young. One or both parents would run quickly in the opposite direction of the nest while holding one wing askew, as if to say, “come get me, I’m easier pickings.”     

 

These eggs are easy to miss, a natural defense mechanism.

Here lies one of the more remarkable examples of camouflage in nature. The female Killdeer deposits her eggs in nothing more than a slight depression out in the open, usually in a gravel and/or stubble field. Though easy to spot in this photo, chances are, if you were within a mere five feet you would never know it was there.  

These photos were taken last week while hiking one of the trails at Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge. On this day, while watching the Killdeers run along the ground and then hearing their shrill, airborne cry, they brought back recollections of Pete Tierney and our days of nature discovery. In those years the shrill cry of the Killdeer was heard on a daily basis from May thru August.  But that’s no longer the case.

The stubble field, the swamp and the wood lots are gone now, long since replaced by apartment complexes, condominiums and housing developments. Gone too is the cry of the Killdeer. Still, I’m grateful for those early years and sun-filled days of discovery and a companion like Pete to share it with. I’m thankful too, that the Lord saw fit to allow us to enjoy it long before the developers laid their eyes on it.

Psalm 84:3 - Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.

Until Next Time,

Jim & Claudia

Nature's Babies Are Here!

Spring of the year is a time to welcome nature’s babies into the world, and while some youngsters of the wild tend to look both adorable and helpless, for the most part wilderness parents are excellent protectors and providers.   

A newborn fawn will spend most of its first few weeks lying very still, trying not to be seen.

We were doing yard work when we came across this fawn lying in a flower bed. Probably born the previous evening, it already knew enough to remain motionless and it never so much as twitched while we finished our task. We were also aware that its mother was close by, watching our every move. 

With dad in the lead, these goslings swim right alongside mamma's side.

"I wonder what's over here?"

A tad bit older than the goslings pictured above, and perhaps feeling a wee bit more independent, this youngster puts a little bit of distance between himself and his mom – but not too much.  

"Stay away from my babies, or you'll be sorry!"

Momma Goose is never too far way and always on the alert, ready to repel threats if necessary.  If by chance a person gets too close to her young, she’ll rear her head up, open her bill and hiss loudly. If, while in this mode, she starts to spread her wings and move toward you, it’s a good time to be someplace else!

This young squirrel was orphaned when a utility company
downed the tree its family called home.

Squirrels have two litters a year, the first taking place approximately sometime between February and April while the second occurs in August and September.   Interesting tidbit; they are one of the few mammals that can climb down a tree head first.  

Gen. 1:24 - Then God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures…….and it was so.”

Until next time

Jim & Claudia

Apple Blossom Time = Abundant Bird Life

A most welcome visitor to our yard and a long time favorite of ours is
 the Northern “Baltimore” Oriole.

Another reminder that our Father in Heaven oversees all things in the circle of life is currently unfolding before us.  Apple blossom time and songbird nesting season go hand in hand. Each day a variety of colorful songsters arrive, a good number of them attracted to the aromatic white clusters in search of insects. Some species still prefer to dine at our bird feeder and a few of our feathered friends will indulge themselves both at the feeder and on the bugs they find among the apple blossoms.  After all, it is nesting season and there are hungry little mouths to feed!   

The Yellow Warbler has a very familiar and cheery call.

This colorful visitor is the Yellow warbler, each one a tiny study in perpetual motion as they rapidly flit about seemingly non-stop while probing the apple blossoms for a meal.  Their call is most pleasing to the ears, one can't help but smile when they're around.

The Red breasted Groseak prefers to be heard, but not seen.

The easy to identify Rose-breasted Grosbeak is another visitor that is both colorful and bears a cheery song as well. We have two nesting pairs in close proximity this year.

The Indigo Bunting, seen here atop our feeder, is often mistaken for a blue bird. 

We’ve been seeing more and more of this species in recent years. 

Here you have four of our favorites, we hope your enjoy them as much as we do.  Each one is not only aesthetically pleasing to the eye but, the ear as well.  Their songs range from sweet to melodious to cheerful. We’ve heard it said the joy of the Lord will put a song in your heart. What might the songbirds be trying to tell us?

Until Next Time,

Jim & Claudia.   

Transition Time in the Wetlands

The Tonawanda Wildlife Management Area.

There is something I really enjoy about the wetlands in the weeks immediately following ice-out. I find the contrast of brown cattails and blue sky reflected on the water aesthetically pleasing. The lack of foliage in early spring makes for great bird watching and wildlife sighting, a perk that is rapidly dwindling as scenery changes are underway. New cattails are sprouting and will soon be lush & tall as will the phragmites, those giant reeds with plume-like heads. In addition, leaves have already begun to emerge on a variety of trees.

The Black-crowned Night Heron

Claudia was able to shoot a series of photos of this Black-crowned Night Heron on our latest visit to the Tonawanda Wildlife Management Area but once the foliage is in full bloom finding photo subjects like this will be difficult.  As the name suggests, this bird is most active just after dusk. They are able to hunt their prey without being harassed by other species of Heron and Egrets. 

Let's zoom in for a closer look.

A Lesser Yellowleg on the hunt for aquatic bugs

We saw this Lesser Yellowleg at the Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge.  It was using its long bill to probe the silt and mud of the marsh bottom for aquatic worms and snails. It’s a bit more tolerant of human approach than its cousin, the Greater Yellowlegs, though it is difficult to tell them apart. All too soon both species will depart for bogs and marshes much farther north.

Wary of human approach, this Great Blue Heron was easy to spot with no grassy obstructions.

Though I’m waiting for warmer weather like most everyone else, there are a few things I’m going to miss about early spring in the wetlands; a greater field of vision, early-departing migratory species and, lest I forget, the absence of annoying winged pests like mosquitoes and deer flies.   

Until next time,

Jim & Claudia 

Woodland Gems from the Forest Floor

Dog Violets, despite being their somewhat sparse growth compared to other members of the Violet family, they still lend a bit of color to the forest floor.         

Once upon a time, while strolling through the woods (wait a sec, this isn't a Fairy Tale, it's a true story).  There was a time – albeit long ago - when I seldom, if ever, gave a second thought to the plant growth springing forth from the forest floor as March turned to April. In my haste to get from point A to point B in search of who knows what, I no doubt must have tromped on a good many vibrantly colored woodland gems.

Those days of haste are behind me now, replaced by leisurely and far more attentive strolls wherever I meander each week.  Being the curious sort, somewhere along the way, long before "Google" became an adjective, I accumulated a mini library of reference books, books that divulged information on all that I encountered.  My bookcase became home to a vast array of outdoor topics ranging from the night sky to butterflies, to mammals, and fish, and birds and, much, much more. One of the more worn books in my collection is about wildflowers. Here are some pics of a few that I happened across while outside near my house recently.  I give you this year's "edition" of early woodland blooms.    

The flower of the Trout Lily consists of just a solitary, nodding bloom.

Although their mottled leaves first emerged a couple weeks ago, it's only in recent days that the Trout Lilies finally have sprouted in the small woods adjacent our property. They stand a mere four to ten inches tall but, left undisturbed over time they can develop into large colonies that will blanket the forest floor.

The Trout Lily apparently got its name because someone back in the day thought the mottled blotching on the leaves resembled the markings found along the backs of wild brook trout.

Lesser Clenandine has heart-shaped leaves and shiny yellow flowers.

Lesser Celandine is normally found growing in large to massive clusters in damp woodlots and along sluggish streams and will brighten the forest floor considerably. Late in the day, as the sun nears the western horizon, the blossoms will close tightly and remain so until the next morning after the sun has ascended well overhead.  (A word of caution, this is an invasive species and should not be transplanted.)

No, this is not a dandelion. 

Another early spring wild flower, Colts Foot first emerged in early March this year.  Sometimes mistaken for dandelion, Colts Foot is found along streams as well as roadsides. Thanks to their distinct leaves (hence the name), the plant is one of the more readily identifiable wildflowers. Both the flowers and the leaves are edible and also are used in some natural homeopathic remedies.   

      

Suffice to say at this stage of my life I am no longer in such a hurry when outdoors and more importantly, I no longer knowingly step on delicate wild plants, but rather stop quite often to admire some of the God’s finest handiwork in the spring woodlands.  "Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these."

Until Next Time,

Jim & Claudia

Some Sights and Sounds of Springtime

A Red-wing Blackbird alights upon a Red Osier Willow.

Among the first arrivals of our feathered friends early last month was a large contingent of Red-winged Blackbirds. While their song is easily recognizable and a sure sign that spring is nigh, it seems this year neither they nor our local meteorologists could agree as to when exactly spring should kick into high gear.

Environs such as this are a spring peeper paradise.

There is no sweeter springtime sound than that of the small chorus frog, commonly known as the "peeper". Their mating season was underway weeks ago and, providing the air temperature doesn’t drop significantly, you will hear their springtime cacophony day or night.

A wood frog warily eyes its surroundings.

It may be the spring peeper whose chorus we are most familiar with, but it’s the wood frog who is usually heard from first. Its raspy call is heard in early spring, often before ice has completely melted.  They are at the lower end of the locally indigenous creatures food chain, often falling prey to just about every other bird, mammal, and reptile they have the misfortune of being spotted by.         

This vernal pool will provide a wonderful micro-environment habitat.

A vernal pool such as the one pictured above is seasonal, perhaps lasting no more than a month or two, depending on the weather. The Spring Peeper and the Wood Frog, as well as certain species of turtles, salamanders, etc., are all reliant on these pools to procreate. They come here to breed, deposit their egg masses and then go back to whence they came. And they don’t necessarily live in close proximity.

Like waterfowl, the aforementioned creatures also have a need to migrate – they just don’t do so on such a grand scale as the birds of the air.  They may simply have to cross a variety of terrain (as well as a dangerous road or two) to get to said place because their biological clock, as well as their ancestral DNA tells them so.  While in our midst however, let us take the time to enjoy their springtime songs of love to one another.

Until Next Time,

Jim & Claudia

A Strange Visitor From Afar

The Horned Grebe is a rather unique creature. For the most part, they breed on freshwater lakes and marshes from Canada’s Prairie Provinces northwest to Alaska and, come fall, nearly the entire population moves to the coast. They migrate nocturnally and after reaching their wintering grounds, they seldom fly.  So it was more than a bit of a surprise and a real treat to find a Horned Grebe cavorting and diving for small fish in our flooded backyard after the Tonawanda Creek spilled its banks a couple of winters ago

There are numerous species of grebes but the Horned Grebe is thought to be tamer than the rest, allowing a closer approach by humans. This fellow didn’t seem to mind our presence one bit, allowing Claudia to take a number of photos while he swam about non-stop, diving at random and, after having stayed submerged for several seconds, would pop up like a cork. More often than not it was successful in finding small fish in the murky floodwater.

"I'm watching you, watching me,"

As seen in this photo, the Horned Grebe’s deep-red eyes are connected to its bill by a thin line and may play a role in locating prey in dark and dingy water. They are excellent swimmers and the young are able to swim immediately after hatching but mostly they hitch a ride on their mother’s back. 

Down the hatch!

By tilting its head slightly, the Horned Grebe allows its finned prey to easily slide down its gullet. More at home on the water, they feed mainly on fish, crustaceans and aquatic insects.  Unlike ducks which are content to sit motionless if undisturbed, the Horned Grebe is perpetual motion, constantly on the move when on the water.  

Still sporting its winter plumage, the “horns” for which this species derives its name are actually tufts of feathers located behind and slightly above its eyes. The russet-colored “horns” will become much more prominent during breeding season at which time the Horned Grebe’s neck will become rufous (reddish-brown) and the plumage along its back will darken considerably.

The solitary bird spent the better part of that weekend with us. We first spotted him around noon on a Saturday and for the entire time – during daylight hours anyway - he was constantly on the move, alternately swimming and diving for food. He must have been fueling up for the next leg of his journey as he was gone by first light on Monday morning.  

Until Next Time,

Jim & Claudia