Cedar Waxwing

Yesterday, Erika and I happened upon a large flock of Cedar Waxwings feeding on what we assume to be honeysuckle in the Carleton College arboretum. When I see waxwings, my mind always wanders to the poem that begins Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire:

 I was the shadow of the waxwing slain

By the false azure in the windowpane;

I was the smudge of ashen fluff--and I

Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.

Many birds hit windows. Waxwings propensity for these fatal events are augmented by their fondness for fruiting bushes, which are often grown in suburban lawns. Waswings are also known to become drunk from consuming fermented berries. I suspect one should not fly under the influence.

On October 16, 2009, the first post in this blog dealt with waxwing tail feathers. I have published other posts about the “waxy” tips to some waxwing wing feathers. These structures occur on both sexes, adults and immatures, but not on all individuals. Notice that this waxwing is atypical because of the wax tips on both the secondaries and secondary coverts. Click on the following links to see my other waxwing posts: July 11, 2010, October 23, 2011, October 18, 2013, June 6, 2014, November 24, 2014, August 15, 2015.

Bighorn Sheep

This year was extraordinary in that Erika and I made major two road-trips. I have recounted the first, to Texas and Florida. The second was a non-birding jaunt to Olympia to welcome a grandson into this world. The trip out was quick, with our arriving two days before the due date. We entertained our grand-daughter while our children attended to birthing.

On 6 July 2015, we drove to Spearfish by way of the Badlands National Park. This park is always a pleasant diversion. We looked forward to visiting the Cliff Shelf Nature Trail, but we found the trail parking lot overrun with road construction equipment. 

We did find a large herd of Mountain (or Bighorn) Sheep. Despite many trips out to the national park, we had never before encountered Mountain Sheep. As I explained in a previous post, no Mountain Sheep in South Dakota is native—all are the result of repeated introductions. Native sheep became extinct in the early 1900s. Bighorns are not long-lived, succumbing to disease, starvation, poor weather, and predators (Higgins et al. 2000).

Golden-crowned Kinglet

I banded this immature, female Golden-crowned Kinglet on Monday. I did not expect the two dark stripes this bird's cheeks. I have never seen any markings like those before, and similar marks do not appear in any of my field guides. Googling photos of this species brings up a few vaguely similar individuals, like this one from the Natchaug Ornithological Society. Perhaps this pattern is within natural variation within the species. At first I wondered if this bird could be a European Goldcrest; but that species has an even plainer face than our kinglet.

Tennessee Warbler

It seemed like every time I checked my net this fall, I found at least one Tennessee Warbler. Between 24 August and 8 October, I banded 73 of these drab warblers. My average number banded both in the spring and fall from 2008 through 2013 is 34.

Tennessee Warbler numbers fluctuate from year to year. On their Canadian breeding grounds, these birds are Spruce Budworm specialists. When budworm caterpillar numbers peak, like after fires or logging, Tennessee Warblers can become abundant. Censuses found over 500 male warblers per 250 acres during peak years. These data are from Rimmer and Mcfarland (2012), who report that, despite the fluctuations, Tennessee Warbler populations have been stable during the past 30 years. They suspect the species is “more abundant now than it was in the nineteenth century.”

Eastern Towhee

This Eastern Towhee was the last bird photographed during our March/April road-trip to Texas and Florida. We found it in Cove Lake State Park about half way across Tennessee. The bottom photo is another Eastern Towhee that John Holden and I found in May here in Minnesota.

Male Eastern Towhees, like these birds, are famous for their “drink your tea!” song. The first note is sharp and the last note is a trill. According to the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology, sometimes the song will start with more than one “drink.” The calls of both sexes are a rising “chewink or tow-hee.” The songs and calls, however, are quite variable. Occasionally towhees mimic songs and calls of other species. Male towhees learn their songs from their parents and other nearby adults (Greenlaw 2015).

Eastern and Spotted towhee songs become even more complicated where they overlap and occasionally hybridize in the northern Great Plains. Males can learn the wrong species’ call, making identification by sound impossible. In South Dakota, I once saw a Spotted Towhee singing the Eastern’s “drink-your-tea.” The Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology discribes the Spotted Towhee’s song as “a drier faster take on the Eastern Towhee’s drink-your-tea song that often omits the middle section…The song starts with one or two (up to eight) short introductory notes and then a fast trill that can sound like a taut rubber band being plucked,"

Red-bellied Snake

During a 20 October 2015 hike in the Carleton College arboretum, Erika and I surprised a Red-bellied Snake. They breed in the spring, but give birth in the late summer. Unfortunately we did not flip it over to see its pink belly. But we did notice the reddish spots on the side and top right behind the head.

These snakes are small and nonvenomous. This one was about half the size of a fully grown, ten-inch adult. They eat slugs, insects, and worms (MNDNR). They spend the winter in burrows in ant mounds, between rocks, and stone foundations. They may share these burrows with other snake species.

Rambur’s Forktail

Rambur’s Forktails were the only dragonflies we saw during our Charleston, South Carolina, visit. They flew about the edge of the Ashley River amongst the cattails. We saw this species in several previous places during our road trip, but I saved an account of them for this post. I took all these photos at the Magnolia Plantation Gardens.

Jules Rambur (1801-1870) was a French entomologist. The forktail that bears his name is polymorphic. These photographs show a male, with its bright greenish thorax and dorsally dark abdomen with terminal blue bands (although the last segment is incompletely blue).  The second photo is an orange, immature female. The third forktail is less certainly identified, except through its association with the other two, and is probably an olive-hued female. A third morph of females look like males.

In the eastern and southern United States, Rambur’s Forktails are widespread, often along the coastal plains. They are also found in the southwest. They breed from Mexico south to Chile, in the Antilles, and in Hawaii. They fly all year in Florida, and most of the year elsewhere, where weather permits. They like most wetland habitats (Bug Guide). These forktails are conspicuous and aggressive. Males need to take heed—females often consume them if mating attempts are unsuccessful (Beaton 2007).

Fox Sparrow

Last week I photographed this Fox Sparrow in a brush pile in the Carleton College arboretum. I was glad to find this bird, since I missed seeing any last spring. The problem was that we were too late in returning from our Texas and Florida adventures.

Audubon first discovered this sparrow in Labrador in 1834. The species breeds across northern Canada and into Alaska. In the west, they occur far south into the Rock Mountains. Many, but not all, populations are migratory. In a previous post, I wrote about this bird's tremendous variation, and why many ornithologists believe Fox Sparrows are, in fact, four different species.

Great Blue Heron

Last Saturday, Erika and I hiked the 3-mile loop at the University of Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. Despite few birds and no dragonflies, we enjoyed the brisk weather and fall colors. We spied a Great Blue Heron in the grass by the side of road. The bird stood motionless on dry ground with its neck out-stretched. I thought maybe this heron was one of the arboretum’s sculptures. I walked within several yards and the bird never moved a muscle.

Then, a bit to my relief, the heron bent over and scratched its neck. The bird then sedately walked away from me. This bird is a juvenal, and does not appear crippled—although I made no attempt to make it fly. Regular readers of my blog will recall that Great Blue Herons do not specialize in eating fish. They take almost anything they can get their beaks around—even amphibians and other animals in dry fields. (See, for example, my post from February 2013.)

Common Gallinule

At the end of our April road-trip, Erika and I spent a few days exploring Charleston, South Carolina. We had never been to the city and Erika was keen to visit a few of their famous gardens. Both the city and the gardens proved to be somewhat of a disappointment. Among cities, we both thought Savanna to be more interesting. The gardens were relatively devoid of birds and dragonflies and must be heavily sprayed with pesticides. We did list this Common Gallinule.

Gallinules are interesting birds. They are rails, although rails and gallinules are usually placed in different groups within the family, which is generally considered to be closely related to cranes or sandpipers. In any event, Common Gallinules are often found in appropriate aquatic habitat in eastern North America and locally in the west. An endangered race also inhabits Hawaii. They are also found in Central and South America. Our birds were thought to be the same species as the Common Moorhen found in Europe and Asia, but they have different vocalizations, morphology, and genes.