Blue Jay

We authors of Birds of South Dakota argued about Blue Jays. Are they migratory? “I recapture the same banded birds all year,” said Dave Swanson. “Recoveries of birds banded in South Dakota range from Saskatchewan to Texas,” I countered.

No wonder we were confused. Some Blue Jays are year-round residents across their range. Others migrate. I thought maybe only the young migrate. Banding studies indicate that less than 20% of any given population, regardless of age, migrate. Some individuals migrate one year and not the next. The non-migratory roaming of some young jays further confuse matters. Suffice to say, the movements of Blue Jays are poorly understood (Smith et al. 2013)

As I wrote in a previous blog, the beauty of Blue Jays tends to be under appreciated. I banded this handsome bird this May in Northfield, Minnesota. 

Viceroy

In March, at the end of the road, on the Gulf of Mexico, at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge, I took this photo of a pretty butterfly. It looks a lot like a Viceroy, but see my previous picture taken in Minnesota. Amazingly, where the Monarch Butterflies that Viceroys mimic are rare, like along the Gulf Coast, Viceroys are less orange and more tawny. Presumably these dark Viceroys are mimicking Queens rather than Monarchs (Brock and Kaufman).

Yellow-throated Vireo

My blogging has fallen way behind. I have many photos to share with you from our eastern road trip in March; I have current photos waiting in cue, especially now with dragonfly season upon us; and I have yet to blog about birds from this past spring migration—like this Yellow-throated Vireo I banded on 24 May 2016.

Vireos look like hooked-billed warblers. Recent DNA work suggests the two bird families are not closely related. Vireos are most similar to babblers of Australia and Asia. Apparently vireos came to the New World via the Bering Land-bridge. The Asian babblers prove to be more closely genetically related to vireos than they are to other babblers and may be moved into the vireo family (Brewer et al. 2016).

The name “vireo” comes from the Latin for “greenish bird.” This description fairly well describes North American vireos (Gruson). Yellow-throated Vireos are perhaps our brightest species.

Large-flowered Penstemon

Large-flowered Penstemon is native to Minnesota. Erika and I found a few growing in the Carleton College arboretum prairie. This grassland is a restored prairie, and effectively managed by the arboretum staff. Management includes periodic burning. Once established, penstemon easily reseeds itself. This penstemon flower clearly awaited a visiting insect on which to dab its pollen.

Aboriginal uses of penstemon included making it into a salve. The plant was also used as a poultice for snake bites (Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden).

Clay-colored Sparrow

During our Friday and Saturday strolls in the Carleton College arboretum, we flushed a single Clay-colored Sparrow. Unlike the uncommon Henslow's Sparrow we had just photographed, Clay-colored Sparrows are common in the grasslands of the northern Great Plains.

The Great Plains is one of our most endangered major ecosystems (Todd and Knapton 2002). Much of these grasslands is converted to agriculture or subjected to overgrazing. The prairie that remains is fragmented and in poor condition. In many areas, fire suppression has even resulted in reforestation.

Henslow’s Sparrow

During our Friday stroll though the Carleton College arboretum, Erika announced, “Listen—that is a different sparrow!” In the tallgrass prairie sang a Henslow’s Sparrow. This sparrow is “remarkably inconspicuous” (Herkert et al. 2002).

We were unable to photograph the sparrow on Friday, so we returned on Saturday afternoon. We heard a pair of Henslow’s Sparrows at the same location. Since these sparrows often sing low in the grass, they can be very difficult to find. We thought they might be only a few feet distant. Finally one flew up and continued to sing from a taller stalk. 

Sibley describes the Henslow’s Sparrow call as a “feeble hiccup.” Herkert et al. 2002 quotes Jones as writing, “the musical performance of this bird has very little to commend it...[The sparrow] suddenly throws up his head and with an appearance of much effort, jerks out his monosyllabic ‘tsip,’ apparently with great satisfaction.” I thought the song sounded like a little grasshopper being crushed underfoot.  Listen and see what you think.

Twelve-spotted Skimmer

Erika and I walked in the Carleton College arboretum on Friday. This female Twelve-spotted Skimmer took a perch, near the ground at the edge of our grassy path. The dragonfly repeatedly took flight, but always returned to its original twig.

Female Twelve-spots look similar to female Common Whitetails. The Twelve-spots have more solid yellow stripes down their abdomens, unlike the yellow spots on the whitetail. Male Twelve-spots are distinctive, with white and black spots running down their wings. Twelve-spotted Skimmers are found from southern Canada, across almost all of the United States, and into Mexico. They are often common and easy to see as they defend territories over ponds and marshes.

Blue Corporal

On 23 March 2016, Erika and I spent most of the afternoon at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge in the Florida panhandle. This visit was our third, over the years, to this refuge. We listed 44 species of birds, but the high point of the visit was this dragonfly along the nature trail at the refuge headquarters. The ode landed in front of us, and a frustrated Erika almost gave up trying to direct me to its perch.

We had no trouble identifying this dragonfly. One of the refuge staff asked what we had seen. I replied, “Look at this dragonfly. At home I would identify it as a corporal because of the two bars on the back of the thorax.” We began our search with the corporals.

We quickly found Blue Corporal. Beaton writes, “…impossible to miss when present, perching horizontally on or near the ground…” This individual is a female. Males are mostly blue. This species is one of the early emerging and common dragonflies in the southeast (Paulson).

Sora

I don’t think I have ever seen a Sora walking out in the open. Their laterally compressed bodies help them slide through thick marsh vegetation. Their long toes, however, are certainly adapted for strolling on lily pads. Melvin and Gibbs (2012) do not mention lily pads, but do report wintering Sora’s in wet pastures and overgrown fields. Last March, Erika and I found this bird at St Marks National Wildlife Refuge.

Ovenbird

Any bird that walks through the forest yelling, “teacher, teacher, teacher” is OK by me. Perhaps Robert Frost described the Ovenbird better, a “Loud, mid-smmer and mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.”

Over the past several years, I have entered most of my bird sightings into eBird—at least those with locations and dates. My first Ovenbird record was made on 22 September 1962, followed by 510 additional eBird entries. Ovenbirds, however, were among the first birds I ever saw. In a bird diary, although without precise dates, I note Ovenbirds from the spring and fall of 1961. Finally, I am also fond of Ovenbirds because this species was the first I caught under my banding permit—and almost my last. On 14 October 1967 I set a net south of Alexandria, Virginia—little knowing I was a few feet from an unobservant drug dealer’s rendezvous. I banded my Ovenbird, gathered up my leaf-clogged net, and never returned.