One Wild Bird at a Time
Page 19
Pipsqueak (chick), 10–11, 13–15
spring migration, 179
flocks
black-capped chickadees, 102, 107–8, 109, 111, 113, 117–18, 123, 125
blue jays, 97–99, 104
common redpolls, 131–32
evening grosbeaks, 178, 180
red-winged blackbirds, 157
flycatchers
pied flycatchers, 166
See also great crested flycatchers
Fomes hoof fungus, 45
food caching
blue jays, 91, 101, 104
broad-winged hawks, 72–73
food supply and egg reduction, 81–82
G
garden spider egg case, 122–23, 123
golden-crowned kinglets, 111
goldfinches, 65, 125
goshawks, 135, 142
grackles, 145, 157, 162
gray parrots, 17
great crested flycatchers
egg rejection, 151–52
fledging of young, 151
nesting and nest helpers, 147–53
vocalizations, 150, 152
great horned owls, 53, 54, 135, 142
gray moth, 118
grosbeaks
bills, 125
pine grosbeaks, 126
See also evening grosbeaks
grouse. See ruffed grouse
H
hairy woodpeckers, 179
hawks
broad-winged hawks, 69–73
goshawks, 135, 142
red-tailed hawks, 20, 103
hermit thrush, 15
herons, 81–82
Holland, Mary, 136
house finches, 152–53
house sparrows, 152–53
I
Icteridae family, 157
insects, 69
intelligence
black-capped chickadees, 114–17, 116, 120–23
blue jays, 91
crows, 17
ravens, 21
Isherwood, Kyle, 58
J
jays. See blue jays
Juice, Stephanie, 58
juncos, 65
K
kingbirds, 146, 149
Kosiba, Ali, 58
Kreiner, Holly, 58
L
ladybird beetles, 31
learning. See intelligence
Leavitt, Duane, 23
Leavitt, Nancy, 23
Leslie, Dean, 70–71
Lichtensteiger, Lance, 17
Life Histories of North American Woodpeckers (Bent), 50
Life History Studies of Woodpeckers of Eastern North America (Kilham), 50
long-eared owls, 64
M
Mann, Gabi, 18
maple sap, 85
mate attraction and drumming, 40–42, 44–49
mating, red-breasted nuthatches, 86–87
migration
eastern phoebes, 166, 169, 173–74
red-winged blackbirds, 155–57
spring, 76, 85, 145–46, 178–79
woodcocks, 183, 185
Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, 18
Morgan, Maddy, 58
mourning doves, 14, 65
Mozart’s pet starling, 34
N
Nashville warblers, 178–79
nest abandonment
blue-headed vireos, 1
red-breasted nuthatches, 89–90
nest cavity excavation
flickers, 3–5, 15–16
red-breasted nuthatches, 83–85
yellow-bellied sapsuckers, 44, 45, 46–49
nest cleaning, 6, 7, 8–9, 10
nesting
black-capped chickadees, 113–14, 146–47
blue-headed vireos, 77–82, 80
broad-winged hawks, 70–73
eastern phoebes, 145–46, 167–68, 167, 170–75
evening grosbeaks, 181–82
flickers, 2–3
great crested flycatchers, 147–53
phoebes, 145–46
red-breasted nuthatches, 87–89
woodcocks, 186–87
nest protection
blue jays, 92–96
woodcocks, 186, 187, 188–89
northern finches, 125
northern orioles, 146
northern shrikes, 119–20, 121
northern yellow-shafted flicker. See flickers
Nottebohm, Fernando, 116
nuthatches. See red-breasted nuthatches
O
orioles, 157
otters, 162
ovenbirds, 178
owls
feeding and owl pellets, 55
great horned owls, 53, 54, 135, 142
long-eared owls, 64
saw-whet owls, 53, 55
vocalizations, 53
See also barred owls
P
Parus cinctus (Siberian tits), 131
Passer domesticus (house sparrows), 152–53
phoebes. See eastern phoebes
pied flycatchers, 166
pileated woodpeckers, 179
pine grosbeaks, 126
pine siskins, 126
Pipsqueak (flicker chick), 10–11, 13–15
polygyny, 159
population declines, woodcocks, 184
Promethia moth, 109
purple finches, 65, 179
R
ravens
Corvus genus, 20–21
feeding, 19, 22–23
intelligence of, 21
nest taken over by great horned owls, 54
red ants, 1–2
red-breasted nuthatches
at birdfeeder, 55, 83, 90, 111
chicks, 82
drawings of, 84
feeding on conifer seeds, 111–13
incubation, 87–89
mating, 86–87
nest abandonment, 89–90
nesting cavity excavation, 83–85
spring migration, 178
vocalizations, 85, 86, 87–88
red-eyed vireos, 75, 76
redpolls, common redpolls burrowing in snow, 126–27, 128–29, 130–33
red-tailed hawks, 20, 103
red-winged blackbirds
cooperative behavior, 162–63
courtship and mate choice, 160–61
social behavior, 157–58
spring migration, 155–57
territorial behavior, 158, 159–61
vocalizations, 156
robins, 14, 15, 16, 75, 146, 149
ruby-crowned kinglets, 76, 145
ruffed grouse
attachment to humans, 136
drumming, 166
feeding, 135, 140, 142
snow dens, 136–44, 139
vocalizations, 135
S
A Sand County Almanac (Leopold), 109
sap licks, 43, 44, 45
sapsuckers. See yellow-bellied sapsuckers
saw-whet owls, 53, 55
scat, ruffed grouse, 137–41
“scolding,” blue jays, 92–95
Scolpacidae family, 183
short-tailed shrews, 13, 55, 60, 62–65
shrikes, northern shrikes, 119–20, 121
Siberian tits, 131
singing
blue-headed vireos, 75–77
starlings, 32–34, 34
See also vocalizations
sky dance, woodcocks, 183–84, 189–90
“Slick” (pet starling), 28–31, 33–35
snipe, 145
snow, common redpolls burrowing in snow, 126–27, 128–29, 130–33
social bonds
crows, 23–25
starlings, 35
solitary vireos, 179
sparrows
house sparrows, 152–53
white-throated sparrows, 145
spiders, garden spider egg case, 122–23, 123
spring migration, 76, 85, 145–46, 178–79
starlings
bathing, 29
feeding be
haviors, 27–28, 30–31
flocks, 32, 32, 35
preening, 28–29
seasonal molting, 29
singing and vocalizations, 32–34, 34
“Slick” (pet starling), 28–31, 33–35
social nature of, 35
“status enhancement,” crows, 23–25
Sturnus vulgaris. See starlings
sunflower seed versus wild diet, 109
“swaying dance walk,” woodcocks, 186, 187, 188–89
T
thrushes, 75
tree swallows, 1, 82, 166, 179, 180
Twain, Mark, 91, 104
U
University of Vermont winter ecology field course, 58, 60
Urbano, Andrea, 58
V
vernal pools, 69, 73
vireos
red-eyed vireos, 75, 76
solitary vireos, 179
See also blue-headed vireos
vocalizations
barred owls, 54, 56–58, 60–61, 65–66
black-capped chickadees, 107, 108
blue-headed vireos, 77, 78
eastern phoebes, 167, 168–69, 170, 171–72, 173, 174
great crested flycatchers, 150, 152
red-breasted nuthatches, 85, 86, 87–88
red-winged blackbirds, 156
ruffed grouse, 135
starlings, 32–34, 34
woodcocks, 183–84, 186
See also blue jays
W
warblers
blackburnian warblers, 78
spring migration, 178–79
yellow-rumped warblers, 76, 166
white-breasted nuthatches, 84
white-throated sparrows, 145
winter ecology field course, 58, 60
Witham, Dionel, 54
woodcocks
chicks, 185–86
feeding behaviors, 185
nesting, 186–87
population declines, 184
sky dance, 183–84, 189–90
“swaying dance walk,” 186, 187, 188–89
vocalizations, 183–84, 186
woodpeckers
downy woodpeckers, 111
pileated woodpeckers, 179
See also flickers; yellow-bellied sapsuckers
Y
yellow-bellied sapsuckers
chicks and begging, 49–50
drumming, 1, 37–42, 39, 48–49, 50
feeding behaviors, 1–2, 14, 51–52, 146
mating, 49
nesting cavity excavation, 44, 45, 46–49
phloem taps in pine tree, 146
sap licks, 43, 44, 45
spring migration, 179
yellow-rumped warblers, 76, 166
yellowthroat warblers, 179
Life in the Soil
Natural History, November 2014
PAPA, MAMUSHA, MY SISTER MARIANNE, AND I WERE FOR SIX YEARS quartered in a one-room hut in a dark forest in northern Germany right after World War II. Towering pines, spruce, and beech shaded the ground except for a small sloping patch in front of the cabin. Light snow had recently covered the ground, and now, after a warm spring rain, it had become black, and that made me notice something marvelous by our doorstep. From one day to the next, I saw a small patch on the dirt turning a luminous green. Perhaps the next day or so after that, the patch had expanded over the black ground: I was mesmerized by this verdant, magically spreading circle of grass blades.
This was, as far as I can remember, my earliest moment of wonder. Had grass been underfoot before, I would have hardly noticed it, from seeing it all the time. But watching that single patch expand from one day to the next was a moment of magic and mystery, maybe even of ecstasy, forever stamped into my memory.
Even so, for a long time the dirt the grass had spawned from remained for me merely something crumbly under the soles of my feet and between my toes. It was the sand on a mile or so of the wooded road between our hut and the village school. Shiny green beetles flashed in front of me on my walks, and after a brief zigzagging flight, where they glinted like jewels in the sun, they landed a few yards ahead. We called them “sand beetles,” and later I knew them as tiger beetles. Although I couldn’t fly, I could run, and it felt good to be on par with such gorgeous company.
Tiger beetles (of the family Cicindelidae) are related to carabids, which are commonly called ground beetles, or Laufkäfer. Ground beetles do not fly, but they all run (which is reflected in their German name, derived from laufen, “to run”). These earthbound beetles soon became my passion, to have and to hold. It came through the influence of my father, a biologist. In order to get some cash he was now digging tree stumps out of the ground that had been left by the occupying British soldiers who had harvested the trees. He earned a few pfennigs selling the wood. But he decided the pits he was digging might be adapted to serve as traps to catch mice and shrews. It was exciting for me to accompany him, ever more so because ground beetles fell into the pits too, and he showed me how to preserve and thus to collect them like some other kids then collected stamps. He gave me a field guide to identify those that I had and those I might someday find. I soon knew them by name: the giant black Carabus coriaceus, the dark-bluish C. intricatus, the shiny copper C. cancellatus (and its look-alike, C. concolor), and the deep-green C. auratus. The merit of those intricately sculpted beetles was not simply that they were beautiful, but also that I could find them merely by scanning the ground wherever I walked. Even more merrily, I could catch them.
I thought of these, my old carabids, with a start, with a nostalgic recognition, when recently—now in Maine, on a new continent—I dug out the pit for our privy. There, several feet down in the dirt, I unearthed a Carabus. It was metallic black, sculpted in lines and pits, and its edges glistened deep purple. Not having collected these beetles for a long time, I did not know the name of this species nor what it was doing underground, but I captured it in a photograph. Perhaps as a larva it had burrowed in that spot and metamorphosed to become an adult, or maybe it had hibernated there in the winter, or was attempting to escape heat or drought. But in any case, it had likely fed on snails, and the snails on grass. It was of the soil, which I was preparing to receive my wastes. And this same receptive soil would also receive all of me, eventually, to convert me to grass, trees, flowers, and more. For the time being, though, an American chestnut tree I had planted years earlier, as well as nearby sugar maples, would grow well because of their proximity to the privy.
Carabus intricatus, a species I had in my childhood collection.
I used the dirt from the pit excavation to make a raised garden bed in which I planted potatoes. I stuck several of them into this dirt, and presto, come fall—it seemed too good to be true—there were perfect and delicious Yukon Golds. My partner, Lynn, saw the magic, and before I knew it we had an even bigger bed of potatoes, beans climbing a pole, snap peas growing on a chicken-wire fence, and little green sprouts of kale, carrots, and lettuce. We watched with eager participation as the emerging green dots in the dark dirt first turned into shoots, and we would harvest potatoes in August for eating in winter.
There is more to be had from dirt than food. I think Thoreau knew this well and maybe said it better 175 years ago. Old Henry (if he’d excuse me for being familiar) was “determined to know beans,” and having made himself a two-and-a-half-acre bean field, he tended and hoed it daily from “five o’clock in the morning till noon.” He came to “love” and “cherish” his beans and wrote, “they attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like Antaeus.” Working alone and with his hands, he became, as he said, “much more intimate with my beans than usual.” Along the way he concluded that “labor of the hands, even when pursued to the verge of drudgery, is perhaps never the worst form of idleness.” And he told the reasons why.
When tending his bean field, Thoreau was “attracted by the passage of wild pigeons”; he sometimes “watched a pair of hen-hawks circling high in the sky,” heard the brown thrasher sin
g, and with his hoe “turned up a sluggish portentous and outlandish spotted salamander.” His enterprise was “not that I wanted beans to eat,” nor was it likely for “leaving a pecuniary profit.”
I’m in rapport with his romantic ideal and with his statement that when he “paused to lean on my hoe, these sounds and sights I heard and saw anywhere in the row became part of the inexhaustible entertainment which the country offers”—as opposed, I suppose, to those summer days “which some of my contemporaries devoted to the fine arts in Boston and Rome” as entertainment, instead. Perhaps this vibrant “idleness” is what Thoreau cherished most.