Birdstud's Birdchat

Break Out the Seeds Once Again!

2009-10-22T18:32:00.019-05:00

(or) Saving starfish...kinda'

Fall is the perfect time to replenish your stores of wild bird feed (seed). Hopefully like me, you have your seed containers outdoors so that wild animals do not treat your home as their personal Holisquirrel Inn, Hilton Mouseden Inn, or (heaven forbid!) Hyatt Ratgency. My in laws have lost a perfectly good screen door screen as a result of an opportunistic vermin who caught the scent of sunflower seeds quite near that door...(sorry mom-in-law...my bad.) In my experience, I have found that 30 gallon metal "garbage cans" make the best critter-proof containers for seed, if you can find them. I have two. One for run of the mill (satisfies nearly everybird) black oil sunflower seeds and one for the "rest." The rest can vary. I usually have white millet for the ground feeders like White-crowned and White-throated sparrows, juncos, and other sparrow-like cousins, Niger thistle for the perching finches like the American Gold, house and siskins, and a corn mixed blend for the corvids and Mourning doves which are the staples of my particular "hood" over the fall and winter months.

The size and shape of the metal cans lends itself well to dropping the entire 40-50 lb. sack of seeds directly into them. Place on their metal covers and I am GTG. Make sure you have a good plastic scoop or two that is dedicated to the seed cans, as it makes your like far less miserable in the dead of winter. Pick up your suet cakes now too. I always salivate when I see them at less than 90 cents each, picking up close to a dozen. One time I found the Garfield's blend on a close-out at Menard's for 48 cents each! I thought I had died and went to suet heaven. What to do with the suet when they are not outside luring in the local Downy woodpeckers? I put mine in the freezer. Two excellent reasons for this are; they keep longer, and they are easier to handle at any time of the year frozen...trust me.

Birds are FUELING UP at this time of year to make their final push to migration grounds and can use some easy quick food. You can help by doing your part...enjoying their visits and keeping seed available. Will all the birds die if you don't? Nope, but some might. It's kinda' like that story of the old guy who was flipping beached starfish one at a time along the beach...another guy saw him doing it and asked, "why are you doing that, there must be a million of them...do you think it makes a difference?" The old man picked up another starfish from the drying sand and threw it back into the ocean saying, "it made a difference to THAT one, didn't it?"

So, in summary: Buy your metal cans. Buy your seed and suet. Store your seed outside. Store your suet inside (the freezer). Keep your feeders clean. Keep your feeders full.

PS: if you live in the Midwest: Time to plug in your heated birdbaths too!

Keep on watching and enjoying our fine feathered friends all this fall and into the winter.

Mosquito Hill Nature Center

2009-10-19T19:37:00.027-05:00

Huh...and I never saw a single one...

Two miles east of New London, WI off County Hwy S lies the Mosquito Hill Nature Center. I used to see the signs from the old route that Hwy 45 took around New London many years ago. Frankly, I had all but forgotten about it. The day after the Blue Jay reunion, I was driving homeward, taking my time on a nice Green Bay Packerless Sunday, when while looking for what I thought was called something like the Kalwitz Marsh along the Wolf River, I came upon the signs once again. I drove the short distance to the nature center and was instantly rewarded by a splendid view of fall colors on the adjacent hillside next to the parking lot. I strapped on the birding gear and headed towards the buildings just off the lot when a series of signs caught my eye. One in particular; the largest, said that this area not only had trails, but an honest to goodness "birding" trail. I was instantly intrigued and stoked.

Doubling back after reading the large sign, I cherry-picked several birding related brochures from a handy weather-resistant informative smorgasbord of leaflets, maps, newsletters and cards. I was impressed with the ability to gather so much information about this new place, without needing to go into a building to ask questions; forget the fact that it was a Sunday and no one would likely be stationed here anyway. The Lexan-protected birding trail map I studied seemed to indicate that the birding trail I sought was clearly marked with large silhouettes of a Northern cardinal posted periodically along the designated trail. Easy, I thought; just watch the birdie and you can't miss. Except it wasn't that easy after all. The trail did however provide nifty interpretive signage about actual birds that could be seen along the route, but reading them would have been a tiny bit easier had they not been at munchkin height. So, no large east to follow cardinals on posts, and low signage...other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

The area around the "hill" was alive with color. The burnt oranges and brownish reds of the Sugar maples, lemon yellows of the poplars, and the scarlet Sumac leaves mixed with the dark of the evergreens lifted the spirits on this cold and breezy afternoon. The bucolic twists of the Wolf River with its shimmering lazy flowing water, served as icing on this cake of stunning natural beauty. I paused on the ingeniously self-adjusting wooden dock like structures that hung into the stream way to watch both an Eastern Phoebe and Swainson's Thrush, while the leaf litter virtually pop-corned with the hoppings of barely visible Tree sparrows. I was half expecting that at each sign along the way that described yet another bird that could be seen on Mosquito Hill; a perfectly placed representative (matching) species would be plainly on display for all to check off their handy list. No such luck. I guess someone must have seen something similar at one time in the past in that clearing, or near that pine and decided the corresponding sign should be pounded into the ground right there. That was okay by me I decided, and set off deep into the woods to see just how steep the "hill" actually was.

Yellow-rumped warblers and Golden-crowned kinglets were by far the most prolific species on the hillside that day. The woods was ringing with their buzzing and chirping sounds, as each one seemed to try and be recognized individually. Woodpeckers, Blue Jays, chickadees and nuthatches also made their presence known as they flitted in and out of the high branches. A lone Eastern Bluebird sat on one of the many houses that dotted the clearings, holding onto the last rays of warming sunshine. No other humans had ventured out to my section of the 430 acre parcel. Jack-o-lanterns lined the pathways, looking as if the night before they had been alight in spooky splendor for some sort of celebration of the season. Only once as I neared the amazing 1500 square foot Butterfly house, did I see a small family unit out for a walk. The butterflies already all put away somewhere for the fall, would have nearly frozen in the 38 degree air. The shadows began to get longer and longer so I wound my way back towards the parking lot. I figured that the interpretive center must have been open, as the hours on the brochure said as much, but I did not venture in. Instead, I had spent the past two lovely hours walking the grounds, looking for birds in this wonderful hidden oasis before finally climbing back into the WPT heading once more for Milwaukee and the real world. Yep...no mosquitoes today.

Don't you just love days like that?

PS: I never did find that ol' marsh...hmmmpf...maybe next time.

The Quest for 30-year Blue Jays

2009-10-15T20:41:00.030-05:00

Blue Jays come in all shapes, sizes (and personalities)...really.

What we already know: Cyancitta Cristata, a passerine of the family Corvidae is a beautiful blue creature which bears the burden of an undeservedly sordid reputation of meanness and aggression...I say, Blue Jays just know what they want, when they want it. Furthermore, Blue Jays are noisy...and that is just a fact, but so are many interesting animals. Blue Jays are resident from east of the Rockies, from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. Blue Jays have a crown of feathers on the top of their heads called a crest that can be raised or lowered according to their moods. Plenty of fantastic websites, dozens of expertly authored books, and a multitude of scientific papers, contain volumes of facts and figures regarding the Blue Jay, so I'll not repeat and recycle any longer, other than to share a few more Blue Jay curiosities.

Interestingly, according to Whatbird.com:

"The Blue Jay's coloration is not derived by pigments, but is a result of internal light refraction due to the internal structure of the feathers; if a Blue Jay feather is crushed, the blue disappears as the structure is destroyed."
They will sometimes prey on eggs and nestlings of other birds."
"Captive Jays have been observed using strips of paper as 'tools' to rake in bits of food from outside their cages."
A group of jays has many collective nouns including a 'band,' 'cast,' 'party,' and a 'scold' of Jays.

Let me now address this last bullet point as I continue...

Recently, I set out on a northward quest to rediscover a "party" of Jays. Typically I would begin any search for them in mixed woodlands, evergreens, or city parks. This particular time I would begin in the small city I had last encountered many of them; Three lakes, WI. I drove north along Hwy. 45 on a blustery cool Saturday morning in the trusty WPT. The many miles I had to travel went along quickly as the changing scenery outside the truck window was stunningly captivating. Oceans of golden brown corn stalks and seas of flowing green grass set off the foreground as sugar maples, oaks, birch and poplar leaves blazed with early fall color on the hillsides. Orange pumpkins and red cranberries dotted the fields and bogs. Even the hundreds of mammoth white wind generators stood in stilled awe of the splendor surrounding their bases. (either that or the power company had 85 percent of the brakes applied for whatever mystifying reason. You know...I really need to blog about that phenomenon someday...all those wind mills standing there and so very few turning...)

As I entered the city limits of a place I had not been for nearly 30 years, I felt like a true tourist. Businesses that I remembered from long ago seemed to have been frozen in a time loop. Sure there were a few new ones here and there, but the vast majority were the ones I frequented as a mere teenager. Other icons of this special place like the local branch of the Dairy Queen, Boehm's Inc., the Black Forest Pub and Grille and the Oneida Village Inn (O.V.) stood resolute in their brick and mortar, welcoming me as I drove along Superior Street. These last two were the kind of rare establishments that actually trusted humans...enough to allow them to start a tab and pay later. Powdered sugar snow covered the shaded areas of the ground from the wintry weather disturbance of the previous night. Stopping briefly in the park where the Cy Williams memorial sign is located, I looked for Jays. Seeing none there, I decided to drive to the end of the block where Hwy 45 intersects with County A. Large sandwich-style sign boards stood proclaiming that today was Pumpkin Fest in town. Again parking the WPT in the lot next to the Winery, I took a quick peek around to see if there were any familiar Jays nearby. Many individuals were milling around the interior of the factory and outlet store, taste-testing and sampling from one end to the other. The cherry pink faces on those assembled told me that a few nips of the grape were responsible for the smiles and jocularity within...however...still no Jays.

I motored back to the O.V. and checked into my room. I carried my few pieces of luggage down the ancient but clean brown low-pile carpeting to my room. A king-sized bed, smallish wooden table with two black faux leather chairs, 70s harvest gold bathroom ensemble complete with a genuine oak toilet seat, and a large Sylvania TV set that looked as if it had toppled off the low dresser a time or two, were all mine for the next 22 hours. I was glad I had requested a "no-smoking room" as the rest of the quaint and affordable premises reeked of the habits of the native northwoods masses. Yes folks, if you ever wondered (from your ashtrayless, foul air banned, looked unkindly upon, urban-enlightened perspectives) where all the cigarette smokers truly are; wonder no further. I found them, and I can honestly say they have all decided not to quit come hell or high taxes.

Don't you just love it when the bathroom exhaust fan actually works? I mean it turns on with a separate switch, moves air as intended keeping the mirror from fogging and (most importantly) whirs along like a playing card in your third grade bicycle spokes, covering any possible noise you might make when using the W.C...that kind of "works?" Yeah, I thought so...me too. Innkeepers of America, take notice and emulate the wonderfulness of a simple small town motel which got it right for a change! Ahem...back to my search for Blue Jays. It wasn't until 2:00 PM when I had my first sighting. This particular Jay was very friendly when I found her. Yes, I knew she was a "her" because I recognized the familiar markings; long blond hair, curves and a higher voice than mine. She and I exchanged pleasantries and decided to tour the Pumpkin Fest and surrounding area together, as she too was looking for Jays. She told me that she was expecting to see a few more around 4:00 PM so in the time being, the two of us entered the local school to reminisce and look for more Blue Jays. Funny how the school was all about Jays. Blue Jay this and Blue Jay that...in the gym, cafeteria, and hallways. Jay memorabilia, Jay paintings, and Jay trophies filled the casements that lined the hallways. We had struck pay dirt. I bought a Blue Jay long sleeve shirt with a great big grin on my face. Yes, this was Blue Jay heaven indeed.

The rest of the Blue Jays arrived between 4 and 6 until the entire "cast" had been assembled. Although their appearance was as varied as their clothing choices, they all had one thing in common; 1979. Some had remained as monogamous as their namesakes. Others had migrated from one mate to another. A few spoke of enjoying the "empty nest" time of their lives, while one was only beginning her time as mommy. Some had not made the journey and skipped the chance to flock together for various reasons known only to them, but those that did enjoyed their reunion. They ate and drank together, (at one point I looked over at one Jay whom I swear appeared to be using a scrap of paper as a tool to get to some food just outside his reach) sang songs and communicated raucously until the wee hours of the next morning. I was struck by the tales told with vivid clarity in which I had somehow played a key role; tales of gratitude for assistance offered and advice given. I realized how a person never truly knows what impact they may have had on anothers life unless those contributions are someday shared. Poignant moments and important interactions passing by us in a blur. This particular gathering of Jays was no different. Birds of a feather...memories of the pecking order we all had naturally assumed, were recollected by those who paid attention at the time. News of those who had fallen from our mutual sky was relayed to each Jay in somber tones, and happiness celebrated and equally triumphed with the pride that only parents can exude. 30-year Blue Jays singing the praises of their offspring were mixed with questions wondered aloud over certain missing friends. In the end this eclectic scold of Jays; large and small, hairy and bald, male and female were what I had come to celebrate. These were in fact the very individuals who helped shape me as a fledgling, and I them. My beginning and theirs. What a perfectly wonderful time.

Before we all knew it, the long slow reverse-migration was underway. For the clock of years only runs forward, and we all had our own habitats to return to.

Congratulations fellow 1979 Three Lakes Blue Jays!

Here's to another 30 wonderful years...I love you all.

Wild and Woolly Times

2009-09-27T17:27:00.024-05:00

Why did the Woolly Bear cross the road? The short answer is...it's "time."

The Woolly Bear in question, by the way, is the caterpillar of a Tiger Moth called the Isabella Tiger Moth (Pyrrharctia isabella), an orange-pinkish medium sized adult moth. The hairy road-crossing caterpillar is typically black on both ends with a broad orangish band in the middle.This particular caterpillar has been known since Colonial times as the "Woolly Bear." This caterpillar is often seen crossing roads and paths on warm days in late fall. According to superstition, the amount of black in the caterpillar's bristle coating forecasts the severity of the coming winter, providing it with another AKA of "The Weather Worm." Actually, the coloration indicates how near the caterpillar is to full growth before autumn weather stimulates it to seek a winter shelter. I found this particular one attempting to traverse a busy highway in northwestern Wisconsin after my wife Nola, pointed it out. We were both riding bicycles from the Willow River State Park to the nearby parking lot which served as a staging area for vehicles and those humans interested in seeing the beautiful water falls. I (of course) stopped right then and there to snap this picture. As I saw the long journey that this particular caterpillar had just completed across the expansive asphalt surface, and the terrific dangers it had just endured; I was impressed. I wondered to myself; what could possibly be that special on THIS side of the road for this stalwart insect, that did not exist on the other?

To answer this probing question we must first look at what is known by the scientists. Since I am not one by title, I did what any one of you would do in my shoes; I Googled. Since there are a few gazillion places where bits of information exists, I thought I might compile most of it on this blog entry once and for all. Here is what I discovered from experts on the question that was "bugging" me in a few poignant bullet points:

Woolly Bear Caterpillars are present in the spring and from late summer to late fall.
They produce one to two generations per year.
The second generation is the one noticed in late fall when the woolly bears are crossing the roads, usually in great haste as if they have someplace special to go. In fact, they are only scurrying to find a sheltered location under dead plant debris, etc., where they will spend the winter as a larva. In the spring, they will feed briefly before changing into a cocoon and eventually a moth. Eggs laid by the female moths start the cycle over again.
Tiger moth caterpillars of the Arctiidae family, often called woollybears, are covered entirely with dense clusters of tubercles from which arise short tufts of hairs or long hair "pencils" of varying colors.
The hairs on these caterpillars can be irritating when handled by individuals with sensitive skin.
Host plants are mainly weeds and other non-crop plants such as dandelion, dock, aster, goldenrod, plantain and some grasses.
The banded woolly bear is found throughout the U.S., Mexico, and southern Canada but not the rest of the world.
Vermilion, Ohio (west of Cleveland) holds an annual Woolly Bear Festival — claimed to be the largest one-day festival in Ohio. Festivities include a parade, woolly bear races and an “official” analysis of the woolly bears and forecast for the coming winter.

So basically what I found out from my perusing told me what people "think" is the reason for their suicidal autumnal crossings: hibernation. Yeah, okay...whatever...I'd prefer to invent some other important reason that they do it. For if they are the important prognosticator of all things winter, must they not be involved with a much more scientific bit of meteorological research involving road crossings? Why just crawl from one side to the other, risking everything in the process just to take a long winter nap, when we all depend on them so heavily for a peek at our climatological future? I suppose I'll never know will I? Nevertheless, one day I will venture to Ohio to bond with others in search of the greater meaning of the wily woollie's wayward wanderings; if not for answers, for a great party for absolutely no scientific reason. Why? Because that's what we humans do. We look for happy distractions in a world filled with too much sadness. We seek comraderie when we feel lonely, and we celebrate anything; even the width of the orangish fibers on a bug if it will keep us from seeing just how long winters in the midwest can be. We look to the Woolly Bear in the fall and the Groundhog in the spring to help make sense of it all.

Perhaps we all just wish, hope and we dream of crossing the roads of life safely to a better place and greener grass, on the other side.

Peninsula State Park - 100 Years and "Counting"

2009-09-16T11:32:00.042-05:00

A birder's paradise awaits you in Door County, Wisconsin...

Anything that reaches the grand old age of 100, gets my respect. To have existed for a continuous century is quite an accomplishment in today's "throw-away" world. Peninsula State Park, located in Fish Creek, WI (County of Door) is celebrating a significant birthday (all year) with various activities surrounding its centennial. You can purchase all kinds of neato-cool merchandise too if you are the type of person who is predisposed to the "shopping gene." I personally am a hat and tee shirt (hoarder) "collector" and am not afraid to admit to this teensy bit of self-indulgence. Heck, I truly do "wear" the things I purchase too, so...(um...am I pathetically justifying my OCD behavior here?) Anyway, there's all sorts of...ahh...ways to "support" their cause HERE if you are so inclined.

The family recently took its annual vacation to this favorite destination; utilizing two vehicles (one pulling the Jayco) to accommodate for all the necessary creature comforts which six people would require for the four days we would be camped there. Were there "extra" items brought along which would not be used? Sure there always are, however if there's "room" in the vehicles...what the heck...throw them in too. Bicycles, lawn-chairs, beach towels, blow-up rafts, tarps, coolers, grills, you name it...stow it in. Don't forget the ladder-golf (AKA: testicle toss, Bola, Polish golf, hillbilly horseshoes, etc.) either, as we planned to have intense on site competition. You don't know about "TT?" Well, it's just about the most revolutionary campground activity since the deadly beloved steel-tipped lawn "Jart" was banned by the "safety nannies" in the 80s. There is truly no replacement "danger factor" offered by this new creative game, but playing it still offers the stalwart camper many of the same ingredients for some lively fun: competition, chance, hilarity, and one hand free for an "adult beverage." There's even a few serious tournaments across the country dedicated to it's play. I would hazard a guess that one day, any potential patron of any camping facility in America would be carefully screened upon check-in, to ensure that said plastic paragon of entertainment, was a part of their larder before being granted entry. (No, just kidding, but you sure see a lot of these set-ups as you drive the posted 10 MPH through the many circles of campsites.) It sure as heck-fire beats "Cornhole" as the best form of entertainment introduced to the camper in many years. Enough of that! How the heck did I get off on THAT tangent anyway? (..., it's easy Birdstud...you are easily distracted...you might as well add ADHD to your OCD profile while you're at it).

Packing up the necessary "birding gear" the first full morning, I sidled my leg over the bar on the Giant (my "comfort bike") and headed out of Welckers Point Campground just as the sun was getting going for the day. I pedaled onto the scenic Sunset Trail heading towards the Eagle Bluff lighthouse in hopes of seeing wild turkeys. Upon bicycling the relative short distance to the lighthouse drive, I was treated to a group of three splendid Toms walking and pecking their way along just off the pavement. (Video below) I stood quietly watching (and filming) in the cool Lake Michigan morning breeze as they moved off into the woods. It always amazes me each time I see them in the wild of the Park; their long black beards blowing in the wind as they look for acorns and other favorite foodstuffs that litter the forest floor. They are so doggone big (and probably tasty) to see they take flight is another head-shaker. You just don't figure them to be able to do it, for as much time as they spend on the ground walking from place to place. Of the 59 total bird species I have seen while in the park, they are among the most interesting to watch. White pelicans were seen in the various bays and flying overhead throughout this particular visit. A few warblers also made an appearance: Black-throated greens, American redstarts, and Ovenbirds among them. Don't forget to visit the 1904 Blossomberg Cemetary too. There are many species of birds to be seen on and around the ancient tombstones. I saw many, many immature Robins basking in the dappled sunlight, and "washing-up" in a handy water-filled dirt depression. Plus, reading the markers is truly educational too.

So dear reader, my (can't miss) prescription for a wonderfully relaxing, and entertaining way to spend some quality family-time, and recharge from your busy schedules is to pack up the Woody with the kitchen sink, and head to north eastern Wisconsin's "thumb." P.S...and don't forget to pack your TT too...remember, that day is coming and where you read about it first.

Happy [100th] Birthday Peninsula State Park: from the Birdstud and (all) his readers

Now...Gobble-up this Birdstud Original Video!!

The Turkeys of Eagle Bluff Lighthouse

Wood Ducks and the BRAINDEAD

2009-09-15T07:09:00.020-05:00

Admittedly, I don't go birding for exercise...

So there I was standing on the winding dirt path, amongst the native grasses that lined the river bank, quietly watching a group of ducks. I had driven the WPT to one of my favorite spots along the Menomonee River after work, trying to beat the declining sunlight to its inevitable daily conclusion. Bird watching in the afternoon is particularly recharging to me after a long day at the grind of my basement (no-windows) desk job. Reaching into the club cab back seat, I don my drab green birding vest, strap on the Bushnells, fasten the camo fanny pack containing my field guides around my waist, and grab my digital Fuji; heading for the solace of the awaiting riverside. I have done this same drill dozens of times before. It soothes me and allows me a chance to walk silently listening, watching, and thinking...only to have to dodge them when they appear out of no where!

Would someone please explain this to me...seriously. If you are reading this and can help my wee brain with a modicum of understanding, I may be able to drop it, but until that cogent moment, forget it...the gloves are OFF! I have taken to referring to these individuals as: Bicycle Riding Animal Irritating Nature Disrupting Environmental Assault Demons or (in simpler terms) The B.R.A.I.N.D.E.A.D. If you knew me (and reading this blog over time, you'll get a pretty good idea) you'd know that I am far from a left-leaning environmentalist who believes that the only rights to the planet belong to anything that does not have opposable thumbs, walks upright on two feet, and owns an IPod. But 'Cmon people...did someone close all the streets, sidewalks and the motocross tracks!? I have no idea where the bizarre and hugely annoying (sport, hobby), whatever the hell activity (involving ramming your two-wheeler through, around, over and under the tranquil, peaceful paths in the woods) came from, but I know this; I am not a fan. There are basically two types of individuals that I have witnessed engaging in this activity; the "Upscale" and the "Lowscale" riders. The thing that they have in common are the fact that they are both B.R.A.I.N.D.E.A.D. and need to find somewhere else to eliminate built-up testosterone. I suggest making love. It's fun, provides physical activity and it's far less annoying to those who choose to also coexist simultaneously in their same general vicinity.

Back to the ducks...I am standing still and soundlessly on the edge of the river side trail, watching the ducks when behind me the squeal of hand breaks and a soft curse draws my attention away. "Watch out!" calls the first man to the one behind. I glance backward and see that two "Upscale" riders, gaily festooned in their garishly colored, sponsor emblazoned, spandex have come to a sudden halt mere feet from my exposed ankles. The first of the B.R.A.I.N.D.E.A.D. breathlessly asks, "Whaddaya see?" "Wood ducks," I respond, pointing. "No..." immediately replies the Upscaler (as if he was some kind of instant Google-fairy dropping in to correct the hapless idiot with the binoculars, with his infinite wisdom.) Plus, he says it like there's nothing special about a Mallard. I say, "Not there," (pointing to the dozen Mallards he thinks I am seeing) "There." I point to the three ducks on the left who are obviously NOT Mallards, and are now (with all this pointless interruption) swiftly vacating the area. He says nothing (as if he was never there) and navigates around me and away into the brush. I snap a photo cause I am speechless once more, and want to share how utterly ridiculous this seems with you, the readers of this blog. You decide for yourself, and remember I asked for help here...if you "get" this behavior, feel free to set me straight. I'll try...really. (Oh, and the "Lowscale" version of the B.R.A.I.N.D.E.A.D. just don't wear the foolishly colored costumes as they crash, slam, and bludgeon there way through my peaceful woods.)

I'll also bet that they completely missed the Whitetail deer standing there, quietly munching on some grass...pity...I didn't.

...say cheese!

...and THAT'S why it's called "Birding."

2009-09-14T17:00:00.013-05:00

...nowwwwwwww, I get it...

As the old rusted-out mini van passed by "the WPT" (White Pickup Truck) the driver (and front passenger of said van), slowed so that I could get a long look at them, and their antics...

I was heading east on Burleigh Street when I noticed that a vehicle was behind me, following me for several stoplights. I could discern that there were two young Americans of African descent in the front seat, and...wait a minute...they were both displaying their middle fingers towards the back of my truck, and to my rear view mirror! "Hmmmpf," I thought. "What in the world did I do to cause that?" I pondered. Did I somehow cut the guy off? Was I driving too slowly? Could it be a (blue-state, liberal reaction to) the McCain/Palin bumper stickers? "Whatever..." I mused, shaking my head and focused my attention towards the front windshield of the WPT once more. My son in the front seat asked, "what's going on Dad?" I responded, "Heck, I don't know, the guy behind me just flipped me off for some reason!" Noticing that the mini-van had now pulled out from behind and had drawn even with me, I looked in its direction. Out of the open window of the van came a head and arm with the same middle digit erect, but the head wore a smile big enough to cause even the maddest of hatters to take notice. "What the hell?" I blurted. These two dudes were grinning broadly and both giving me the 4-gun salute at the same time. Driving side by side for a couple of blocks , they soon pulled away leaving me puzzling about their motives....then it dawned on me and I began to laugh. Hard. I turned to my son and said, "I get it...it's really funny too!" You see I had placed self-adhesive letters on the tailgate to trumpet my love for all things avian, by proudly proclaiming the ultimate of corny phrases, "FYI: I Brake for Birds!" The minivan's occupants were waiting to see If I'd indeed brake for their "birds!" I giggled about that all the way home.

Moments such as those always come with an "ah-hah" associated with them, do they not? Like when the other day, I realized why it's far more appropriate to refer to the observation of feathered fauna as "Bird-ing" Vs. "Bird-watching." It was so simple when I made that discovery for myself that I almost missed it. You see, it was on a bicycle ride along the Interurban Trail in Ozaukee County, WI. that it clicked. My wife and I were riding the trail that winds its way in and out of the quaint (tourist-friendly) cities of Cedarburg and Grafton. I had not taken a thing "bird-related" that day but knew I would be in amongst the wooded byways regardless. The trails were paved and were wonderfully diverse, however the more rapid pace of our ride would not have allowed for the leisurely stroll associated with my typical bird watching activity. The birds were still there...I could only "hear" them as I pedaled along. Wait! That was the moment of clarity. Sure, the majority of birders relied upon their eyes and binoculars most of the time, but what about their "other" senses? As it dawned upon me that I was still "birding" even while bicycling along at a pretty good clip, I began to tick off the species I heard while on the trail; chickadee, downy, robin, blue jay, cat bird, flicker...the list grew and grew while I added mile after mile.

"Bird-ing" Vs. "Bird-watching." Simple, uncomplicated, no additional equipment necessary...easy. I love that!

Back to School Checklist

2009-09-04T08:03:00.008-05:00

Okay Little Johnnie, let's go over your back to school list...

Pens?, (check) pencils?, (check) notebooks?, (check) Chicarrones? (huh?)...

Yes, it's true Mom's and Dad's, your little urchin's back to school list is not complete without 'em! At least that's what Walgreen's in Wauwatosa, WI would have you believe.

I was picking up a prescription when the sign near the checkout gave me pause. I began to doubt my child's readiness for his return to our educational system...what kind of parent was I? Sure I had secured the usual tools of the freshman-year trade, but (my goodness) how could I have been so ignorantly uninformed! How fortunate that I caught this egregious faux pas early in the new school year. I hoped that I was not already too late to save my son from the embarrassment of that crucial moment when all the "other" (better parentally prepared) students reached into their backpacks for their supply of flavored pork rinds, crinkling the cellophane bags in dutiful response to a sudden teacher request, only to find that I had not taken care of his needs...how utterly horrifying! Not any more...no sir! I have seen the display and the light...time to buy...and at such a wonderful Walgreensie value too if I buy in bulk.

Thanks Walgreen's you have saved me and my student from unbearable ridicule and I owe you a debt that words alone cannot repay. Let the new year begin now, knowing I have dodged the proverbial bullet and saved face...whew...that was close!

Spring Break in the Panhandle (Part Two)

2009-08-16T18:25:00.059-05:00

Better late than never I always say. (C'mon...I was busy, Ok?)

When we last left our intrepid travelers they had just reached the panhandular city of their destination; Panama City, FL. The next stop was to pull into the campground and set up camp for the week. St. Andrews State Park is located on a quiet tip of land just opposite the melee of the extremely "Disneyland-esque" main portion of Panama City. Opposite, in that a body of water called the Grand Lagoon separates the glitz and gaudy from the quiet and serene. Don't think me too harsh here as I'm only pointing out the dichotomy. Your "thing" just might be tuned right in to the neon, fair rides, loud music, countless tattoo parlors, trendy eateries, and hundreds of recreating college students all experimenting with a form of perceived "adult" behavior. Years ago I might have joined in the frivolity, but not now, not this time. Panama City and its even more promiscuous cousin, Panama City Beach are areas in transition. Each is attempting to carve out a lasting identity and finds itself divided somewhat between the factions that don't mind swooping in for the quick buck and the long time residents and those with vested long term interests. In spring of 2009 it was evident that the economy had laid its suffocating hand on the neck of the construction industry as many a development had stopped dead along with many a dream crushed in the process. Money was lost by the oyster bucketful as the speculation cash supply dried up. Well, as far as the Devereauxs were concerned, we would sprinkle as much of our hard-earned "stimulus money" into the local coffers as possible; doing our part. We tend to support the Mom and Pop establishments whenever we can anyway, so it was a win-win

We found our site after check-in and began setting up as per usual; Nola and I doing mostly everything. The weather was wonderfully Floridifically warm and the breezes from both the ocean and the lagoon sides kept the air moving nicely. Bugs were practically non existent for the week and the birding was fantastic! The sugar white sands of the many beaches attract tens of thousands to them each year, with a favorite spot of many; the Lagoon. Mothers can bring their small children there, protected from the wilder waves by the man-made, bouldered "jetty." Max began filming one of his famous Youtube videos patterned after his (then) favorite movie; Life Aquatic. I helped as I could while keeping an eye open for birds. Yes, Dedra...birds...those flying things honey. She spent a great deal of time on the white sand working on her tan soaking up the sun, so she was good; birds or no birds. The shelling at St. Andrews is pretty scarce so finding anything unique was particularly hard, however the quality of the small available varieties is still wonderful. One can find zillions of really cool gastropod s, bi-valves, Florida cones, Olives, scallops, and the typical broken sand dollars. This year hundreds of dead sea urchins littered the waterline along with the occasional expired pufferfish. Fishermen, fisherwomen and fisherkids stood steadfast on the jetty wall staring at their lines in hopes of landing some bizzare sea creature. (Well, probably not, but that's what I would want if I was out there amongst them). Just off this side of the park, across St. Andrew Bay lies Shell Island. It's a place that I have not gone as yet and perhaps I will some day, but every time I hear about it and its desolation (no shade whatsoever) I think that I'd best be better prepared for that sort of excursion before paying the money to be marooned and toasted. if you are curious, click on the link HERE to learn more about how to get there. You'd think that there'd be better shelling on "Shell Island" but that's not what I hear, so if you want to save your money for another tee shirt or bundle of firewood, that's probably your best bet.

The waves along the ocean (gulf-side) are larger and surfers are seen attempting to make a go of it. Personally, not being a surfer myself and not playing one on TV either, but having a bit more than half a brain: I can tell you this ain't no Tamarindo, Costa Rica. It hardly looked worth all the paddling it took to get out there if you ask me...but then again the surfers probably would say the same of chasing a Loggerhead Shrike across a crowded parking lot. Night time on the beaches is a blast. We always take our high-powered spotlights along to find washed-up weirdness on the beach. Ghost crabs dash in and out of the surf and the occasional unidentified creature rolls itself up and out of the water to be discovered. The roar of the waves in the pitch black is slightly unsettling and wildly exciting too. Try it the next time you are camping near the ocean...it's exhilarating...your kids will go nuts too.

So, I'm getting around to the birding part of this blog entry now, so thanks for sticking with me. It must be said straight away that of the 65 species I recorded while in the Panama City area, I picked up just 3 new life birds for my lifelist; Black Skimmer, the Eurasian Collared Dove and the magnificent Summer Tanager. Gulls were by far the most prevailant species in the area with egrets a close second as many were in breeding plumage and nesting nearby in specialized island colonies on inland waters. There was this one (idiot) guy who decided that he was such an amazing wildlife photographer that he parked his giant pickup on the side of the road, got out all his expensive camera gear, rolled up his pant legs (not sure why he bothered) and waded out into potentially alligator-infested waters up to his armpits within a good spit of the protected nesting Great Egrets to get a "better shot." He must have had some sort of Marlin Perkins complex to be sure. I took photos of him while I bitched (to absolutely no one nearby) as to what a moron I felt he was...grrrrr...but I felt better anyway. I went back to the campsite to watch the deadfall behind the camper for a while. It had become a bit of a mecca for several interesting species of ground-feeding birds since I "seeded" the area just a bit with Kaytee. Brown Thrashers, Northern Cardinals, Bluejays, red-Bellied Woodpeckers and the cutest pair of eastern Towhees hopped and skipped amongst each other pecking at my free-will offering. The most interesting bird to visit was the Red-headed Woodpecker. It would take a sunflower seed and wedge it into a crevice of the deadfall before pounding it into submission in search of the soft inner flesh.

One of the more spectacular sightings was a small tree full of Rose-breasted Grosbeaks that had decided to take a break near the boat landing. They dotted the branches with their crimson black and white feathers like ornaments. Each afternoon when the fishermen would come back to the landing, the Brown Pelicans would greet them. Their are signs clearly posting that it is not a good idea to feed them, however as we all know; signs be damned...that's for other people to read. At least their persistant mealtime begging and squawking was a good opportunity for a photo or two. Northern Mockingbirds could be heard and seen in multiple locations. They are the south's version of robins. Plus, while the Blue Grosbeak sighting was not my first, I was able to take a better photo this time and felt privileged to do so. As a matter of fact, even though my digital camera is not a "pro" model, I still highly enjoy taking images of birds...LOTS of them...just ask my family.

Then there was the hunt for the elusive alligator. It seemed that the majority of casual vacationer was far more interested in spotting a reptile than would ever get a kick out of a Great Blue Heron. I would be sitting on my bike seat on the side of the road staring through the brush at a Little Green and a car would stop to ask me if it was an alligator I was looking at. When I turned to tell them no it was a such and such bird, they would drive away before I could get it out of my mouth. Pity...they missed the unappreciated beauty and splendor of the Boat-tailed Grackle for peetey-sake. Sure I saw the stupid alligator...even got a snap-shot of 'em too, but c'mon...you seen one, you seen 'em all right? I even tried crabbing. Nola and I tied some chum-flavored chicken parts onto the floor of two Internet-purchased cages and sat them on the bottom of the bay at night. The only large crabs we caught were Spider crabs. Arguably, thee most hideous looking creatures God ever laughingly decided to place upon this earth. But creepingly weird enough to pick up with your bare hands. Watch it however, they are sharp little buggers with their armored-spiky shells

So the moral of this two-part story is: Go Camping. Plain and simple eh? You truly need to get outdoors and "rough it" a bit, turning off the TV and walking in the bushes for a hike to get the feel of really living. If you try it and don't necessarily like it, fine; you'll at least know what you are missing when you open up the mini-fridge for a San Pelegrino before you step into the hot tub...the rest of us will be just fine out there...catching real crabs. See ya' later alligator!

PS: When in Panama City, try Capt. Anderson's and Billy's Oyster Bar...you'll thank me.

Whistle While You...

2009-08-07T11:34:00.025-05:00

At times a quest for knowledge can take you a bit off the beaten path. (Right Church, Wrong Pew)

Whistling Robins. That's where it all started. I wanted to find out who knew what about this most perplexing of subjects and discovered way more than I ever wished for. As you know, if you are reading this, my absolute favorite bird is the American Robin; Turdus Migratorius. You probably even know why too, but that's not the focus of my ramblings today. What I wanted to know is why do some Robins whistle? (That was my first mistake)

If you know me, I like to dig too. No, not in the soft fertile soil, or the hard-packed clay (however that too is true) but I mean "dig" in the sense that I turn over things until I find the answer I am looking for. I also love the Internet as a tool for helping me do this. It is emotionless, patient, thorough, and does not ask me to repeat myself for mumbling. For all of its good points, it has one not-so-good one that must be dealt with and considered; it is very literal.

My case in point today will be my quest for knowledge related to my whistling Robin question. Did you know that if you Google the phrase "Robin Whistle" you'll discover a very sexy woman's sandal design from the people at FarylRobin named the "Whistle?" (Warning if you click on the FarylRobin site HERE, the site loads slower than the proverbial Second Coming) If your interest has been sufficiently piqued regarding the Whistle sandal and what it looks like, click HERE instead. (Disclaimer: Birdstud is not a salesman for FarylRobin, nor is any of his family affiliated with the company in any way )

So Googling onward, my next stop was a happy little (not) 12-line poem written in 1920 by Sara Teasdale entitled, "There Will Come Soft Rains."

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

After reading that uplifting bit of prose, I felt like I needed to apologize to someone for some reason...hmmm, I wonder what that was about. Anyway, my next stop along the road less traveled was a grainy, blurry YouTube site that featured a kid named "Robin" who learned to "whistle" in an extremely pathetic way. Of course I watched it (and all the subsequent attempts) with the same fascination that one has while watching a slow-moving train wreck...I couldn't NOT watch it, you know? Perhaps I somehow "wished" that whistle-challenged Robin would STOP whistling long enough to provide me with the answer to my question? Nope...so I moved on with a heavy heart to one of the MANY references to a curious bit of "whistling" associated with a short-lived forgetful BBC series dealing with the life and times of "Robin" Hood. Some "artist" with a copy of Audacity and Windows Movie Maker had apparently sifted through hours of gritty, entertaining footage from the ill-fated show, pairing it with the "whistling" theme from the Disney animated film of the same name. (HERE) Note: This is NOT entertaining in the slightest, but the whistling is kind of amusing for 20-30 seconds.

Can you believe that someone out there actually had the cajones to criticize Mary Poppins and it's "factual faux pas" in purposefully casting an "American Robin" singing IE: "whistling" from Mary's finger and windowsill, and not the far more believable "British Robin?" (Was this a "union" thing, or was the American Robin, too pricey?) Perhaps that same critical individual failed to notice the utter fantasy involved with a woman who can fly with a standard bumbershoot? (and don't even THINK of Googling "bumbershoot" or you'll get the Seattle Music and Arts festival)

So far you must think me mad or (at least) horribly off track. Not so dear reader, for I had a breakthrough during my next series of word reordering; what was a "whistle" to me, was in fact a "seet" to the most amazing bird audiologist on the planet; Donald Kroodsma! What I was missing from my frantic Googling attempts was this important distinction, and when you are as accomplished and respected as Mr. Kroodsma is, you can call it like YOU hear it. In his book, "The Singing Life of Birds" he gets around to addressing the subject of my quest. I say "gets around" because this book, while technically unmatched, is just not a summer light reading escape. It is jam-packed with technical jargon, graphs and sonagrams that would take a scientist to appreciate and is quite tedious in that regard, however I do own the book and like the pictures. No really, the CD that's attached is well worth having, so if you think you'd like to take a shot at wading through the pages and pages of techno-jumble, then by all means pick it up (for the CD anyway). Me, I'm a kinesthetic learner anyway (and make no apologies for that) so it stands to reason that I just want the Cliffs Notes version and to be shown the door so I can go out and play...but I digress. From Donald Kroodsma to several old-time .PDFs interspersed around the "seet-ing robin" world, I finally found my answer! Robins can sound a warning (aerial alarm) when a predator (namely another meat-eating bird) raptor is in the neighborhood. That makes perfect sense to me now. The time I have heard their high pitched (often subtle) "seet" calls in my own city neighborhood were when there actually might have been a Cooper's Hawk in the vicinity. There are PLENTY of those frightening predators in the area and I can imagine that the robins saw them first, sounding out their warning to all who had the good sense to heed it. It must be noted that many birds sound alerts for various reasons, lurking hawks and eagles among them, however the robin's whistling "seet" call is quite unique (at least to my ear).

Certain alarm calls can even relate information as precise as the predator type and risk level. How individuals respond to these calls may depend on both the intensity of the call as well as the age of the responder. Scientists have investigated the aerial alarm call of the American robin and specifically examined how call rate (reflecting intensity) and age affect the anti-predator behaviors of responders. Both juveniles and adults significantly altered their behavior upon hearing recorded playbacks of "seet" calls; they foraged less and increased vigilance and other anti-predator behaviors. Adult robins were also able to distinguish between low intensity and high intensity calls; skygazing, an important behaviour that allows robins to scan for raptors, increased with call rate. Juveniles, on the other hand, skygazed less and there was a trend for juveniles to spend more time alert than adults suggesting that some learning may be involved. When a robin hears an alarm "seet" call, they most often repeat the call and stop moving so as to "hide."

Yes, the robin's whistling "seets" are truly an important evolutionary development in this fascinating species, and one that provides an important service for fellow avians. For humans, it is another in a long list of natural wonders that causes us to ponder, investigate, record and speculate...and nowadays, finally Googling for the "truest" answer to our questions. Now I know for sure and so do you. Kinda' gives you that clean as a whistle feeling don't it?

Seet choo later dear reader! - Birdstud

Anything Can Happen...(and often does if you're ready)

2009-07-22T19:45:00.002-05:00

Deer (BS Blog) reader,

We interrupt this early morning BIRDING adventure in Benton Harbor, Michigan for a very special mammalian encounter.

Shhhhhh...just watch and listen...(and learn)

A special non-birding moment...

You Always Remember Your First(s)

2009-07-21T19:04:00.012-05:00

Just like your first "love" - you'll always remember...

...the very first of any bird species seen first-hand; where you were, where "it" (they) were, what the weather was like, what you heard, how you felt inside, perhaps even what you were wearing...(no...then again probably not if you are male)

Each time you see a different bird for the initial time, an indelible imprint is left on your brain. For instance I can remember the first time I saw a bird that more or less defined me as a "birder." My family and I were camping in the Colorado Rockies alongside a rushing river. I went down to merely look at the water crashing through the large boulders along the banks. It had rained heavily earlier and the river had swollen, carrying large chunks of debris along with it. I was standing on the bank safely above the torrent when a small movement at water's edge caught my eye. Impossibly a small dark bird was jumping off a rock repeatedly, directly into the strong current, swimming under the water for a bit and then re-emerging for yet another unlikely session. When on the rock, in between its suicidal swimming sorties, its backside would bob up and down endlessly. I was so taken with this extraordinary animal that I researched it as soon as I could. I had just witnessed my "first" American Dipper. - Truly a memorable animal (and life-altering) moment for me.

You may think I am kidding, in that how could the memories of a first love interest compare with seeing a dumb bird for the first time. Well kidding I'm not, and "explain" it I cannot; I just "know" that it happens. Perhaps its all the senses working in harmony when discovering a new species that combine just as in that moment when you decide that he or she is "the one" to have stolen your heart for the very first time. All I can tell you is that I have spoken with many birders out there who can give you the nearly exact moment verbatim, of a personal encounter with a Scarlet Tanager, Western Bluebird, Pied-billed Grebe, or magnificently soaring Red-tailed Hawk as if they were watching a favorite rerun on TV that only they can see. Think back to the special someone in your own life and the moment of that first hand-hold, embrace or kiss...it's like that people...just like that; forever burned into your head with Technicolor and Dolby. In fact, just start telling one birding enthusiast about your first whatever, and be prepared to engage in a veritable marathon down memory lane.

So get out there and open your eyes (and all your other senses) and truly "see" for a change...the "remembering" part will take care of itself. You'll thank me when those special memories of all your "firsts" come flowing back; just like a scenic Colorado River.

My "first" Common Redpoll at our Milwaukee home.

"S" is for Summer...and "S"parrows!

2009-07-12T15:12:00.025-05:00

Sit yourself down and stare a while...

The temperature was a warm and comfy 78 degrees with bright sunshine as I drove into the Havenwoods (Wisconsin State Forest) in the northern 1/4 of the bustling city of Milwaukee, WI. I had not been to visit in a few months and felt that since it was summer once again, that it was time to look for a few sparrows. Now sparrows mind you, are most everyone's amorphously colored and undefinable "LBBs" (Little Brown Birds), but I still enjoy the challenge each time I swing the Bushnells around to bring one into view. As a matter of fact, summertime is the one of the best times to find many of these elusive species-defying birds. American sparrows are seed-eating birds with conical bills, brown or gray in color, and many species have distinctive head patterns. There are over 64 different sparrow species types (With the word "sparrow" in their names) and 13 species specifically in North America. Originally, the word "sparrow" meant any small bird. However sparrows can even be quite fetching in their mostly muted browns, tans, and whites. (Just ask artist Ellen Granter if she thinks so...) HERE photographer, Greg Lasley has included many images that he has taken with his camera. Sparrows have worked their way into many aspects of human life; poems, songs, plays, and even sparrow-parable-istic humor!

Ahhh, but I digress...the ol' Internet is FULL of "sparrow-stuff" if you want to find it... The purpose of this here blog entry is to share with you-all what I (Professor Bird Stud) saw while in Havenwoods. Of the 37 species I counted in about 2-hours, 7 of them were sparrows; House, Tree, Field, House, Song, Chipping, and Savannah. I walked predominantly along and above the drainage stream, near the open fields filled with native Wisconsin plants and wildflowers. Someone had thoughtfully placed plywood sections on the grass at 100-yard intervals, so I sat down on one to take a load off, and to sit quietly among the taller grasses...watching. I did however notice that I was sharing my perch with a colony of ants, so I was careful to keep them at bay while I waited. I was rewarded with long views of several sparrows doing their sparrowly things. One bird in particular confounded me for many minutes as I watched it clinging to a sturdy stalk of grass. It's long legs didn't seem to fit any profile of any sparrow I had seen before. I kept thinking "Lark," but it just didn't have the markings. I finally went to the sparrow guide I keep with me and discovered that there was and impostor in the mix...a female Bobolink was what I was looking at as it "pretended" to be a sparrow there on that stalk. I took photos and a video for you to see below.

Havenwoods State Forest is chock-full of varying habitat. There are marshes, prairies, ponds, deciduous trees, pine groves, high ground and low ground areas. As such, the bird species are many and mostly segregated to their favorite habitat. I even heard a red-eyed vireo calling it's "look at me, way up high, in the tree, here I am..." song and just HAD to enter the darkened forest area just to get a better listen. (Heck, you can never SEE the darn things at this time of year with all the leaves, but just to hear one in the "big city" was to cool to pass up

I headed back to the white pickup truck after about 2-hours of sun and fun, filled out a species checklist for the Havenwoods staff, bought the patch for my vest...(yep, ever since my Sugar Camp Lions Club days, I have this "thing" for collecting patches and pins...what can I say?)...and drove back home...dreaming of Usinger's Liverwurst on an onion bun, covered in Silver Spring Beer and Brat mustard. Yum!

1910 (hidden) Train Bridge on Havenwoods north edge

PS: The Endangered Sparrow

One sparrow in particular seems to have gone missing completely; the "Dusky" Seaside Sparrow disappeared from earth as the last one in captivity died in Lake Buena Vista, FL. in 1987. The "Cape Sable" Seaside Sparrow is now highly endangered as well.

The "Imposter"

Video of Female Bobolink "sparrow imposter" (LEFT) and Savannah Sparrow (RIGHT)

Unexpected Pleasures

2009-07-07T08:16:00.011-05:00

These are the things that make life, just that much sweeter...

Finding money in the pocket of an old pair of jeans...discovering a new shortcut to your place of work...that generic medications work just as well as the more expensive brand named ones...answering a phone call from a long lost friend...hearing an old forgotten song on the radio...finding out that dickcissels are now in your area. What...you haven't heard of a dickcissel? Well, let me tell you a few things about this colorful, social songster if you'll allow me:

1. A proud member of the subfamily Cardinalinae of the family Fringillidae - (yeah, that's Latin... )

2. A streaky brown bird 16 cm (6.5 inches) long, with a black bib on its yellow breast, looking somewhat like a miniature meadowlark.

3. Dickcissels are seedeaters.

4. They breed in weedy fields of the central US and winter in northern South America; some stray to the Atlantic coast in winter.

5. Migratory flocks of Dickcissels assemble into larger and larger flocks gradually growing into thousands of birds. Winter roosts can number in the millions of birds.

6. The male does little other than feed himself and try to attract a mate. The female builds the nest, incubates and feeds the young.

7. The global population of this bird is 22,000,000 individuals and despite threats from crop dusters and agricultural chemicals, it does not appear to meet population decline criteria that would necessitate inclusion on the IUCN Red List.

8. The current evaluation status of the Dickcissel is Least Concern.

The Menomonee River Watershed - 91 acre (Floodwater Detention Basin) area has been in transition for the past 4 years and is just now beginning to attract a new variety of birds to its richly native-plant covered expanse. While the true intention of this expansive movement of over 2 million cubic feet of earth is to provide a place where 100-year stormwater levels can languish until slowly flowing off into the river and ultimately Lake Michigan, it is proving to be the magnetic attraction birders had hoped it to be, for a myriad of migratory species.

Back to the dickcissels...I have taken a small movie and posted it below so that you can hear the very same bird I heard on July 4th, 2009 singing his morning song. Enjoy!

Sources: Brittanica, Whatbird, MMSD

Mom's (Dad's) Day Out

2009-07-06T11:01:00.009-05:00

Time for Babies! (again)

I was standing in the kitchen over the Fourth of July weekend just concluded and a cacophony of sound drew me to the window overlooking the feeders. Chittering, squeaking, and chipping was emanating from various small birds on the ground at the base of the feeding area. Nearby each chick were their various doting matching parents, each bending at the hip (do birds even have hips?) with a beakful of something that their eager hatchling(s) would enjoy. The immature shortened feathers bristling as the tiny proteges verily shivered with delight and excitement at the prospect of nourishment. There were Northern Cardinals, American Robins, House Finches and House Sparrows together on the ground under the hanging feeders all doing what comes naturally at this time of year. If you've not had the pleasure of witnessing this preciously choreographed and all important duty, I urge you to pause and do so. Well sir, as I witnessed the feathered conclave of interspecies breakfasting unfolding before me, I was struck by how much the scene under my window ledge reminded me of similar human interractions between new parents, their strollers, and younglings as they too gather at the park for a bit of "outside" the home time. Now, in today's human world just as in the avian it would be unfair to merely call this "Mom's Day Out" without mentioning how the male of the species has gotten his hand or wing into the act. It seems as though both parents have rightly decided the importance of rearing the children together as each has something unique to offer the "kids." Lessons are there to be taught and learned with each interraction and session, so to leave the man of the nest out of the "fun" would be a shame. Well, just as I know that human Mom's (and sometimes Dads) glowingly gush when their own precious one begins to do something for the first time, Don't you also wonder if the "gals" are sitting up in the branches and bragging about how junior just took his first hop or said her first "cheep?" Well...I do...but then that's me.

Catching up with a Cousin

2009-05-23T14:25:00.011-05:00

We interrupt the Spring Break birding saga between parts one and two, for a birding interlude: Birdstud and cousin Ken Brown go birding on Memorial Day weekend 2009. So I haven't seen my cousin Ken for quite some time and I read in an email from him that he "appears" to be getting into birding. He references seeing an Eastern kingbird and Baltimore oriole while on a walk, and I get excited because he must be a bit more savvy and interested in your average "robin-identifier." I invite him to attend a bit of an early morning walk-about focused solely on avian awareness...he accepts and actually sounds genuinely jazzed! This is GREAT news for me as I have been chomping at the bit to get out there, and REALLY shake the trees for some spring warblers, so that's just what the two of us did, after a quick stop for caffeine at Cranky Al's Bakery on North Ave. in Wauwatosa. Ken dutifully drove in from his home in Colgate, WI to ours in Milwaukee arriving at 6:00 AM sharp. That's a great start to any day's events; a birding partner that shows up on time (or even a bit earlier) proving that the interest (and enthusiasm) is truly there.

While breaking off pieces of a marvelously baked, still warm, blackberry and peach scone and sipping piping hot "Cranky Roast" we began to hash over the missing details from the last time we saw each other, carefully making sure that each of us asked a few spousal-related questions, noting the responses, just in case ours asked us about the other. In other words, we mostly talked like guys do...top of the trees, surface stuff, grunting and nodding, but remembered that we would each (no doubt) be asked to regale a few details, so we did our best to wool gather a couple for the ladies. Ken and I grew up together in the 70s. While he's a few years my junior, we still had plenty of interaction and stories in common; like the time I was archery target shooting in my Sugar Camp driveway against some hay bales, when a luckless chipmunk happened to run across the target area. Just on a whim, I "followed" the speeding varmint from left to right with a knocked target arrow, letting it fly with a bit of a lead...damned if I didn't impale that critter (pardon the pun) dead-center! - I was simultaneously shocked, horrified, sorrowful, but a wee bit proud of my aim. Ken reminded me of this today and I'll be darned if I didn't even remember that I had any witnesses to my feat (crime), let alone HIM. Well sir, I guess boys will be boys from time to time and this was one of 'em.

Back to the birding: The areas we covered were the ones I frequent the most. While they're not the Horicon Marsh, or Cape May, NJ they are familiar to me and I knew what I could show to Ken, and where to find it. We started on the Menominee River Parkway off Center street in Wauwatosa, (a place I have blogged extensively before of) moved to Hoyt Park and the nearby Milwaukee County storm water overflow watershed area. These three trusty locales yielded a good number of birds, many that Ken had not yet seen. Around 8:45 AM we drove east to Lake Park (another oft-blogged place) to join up with this particular Saturday's Warbler Walk. We snuggled in behind the group as their 15 pairs of optics were similarly trained on a nearby Maple stand looking at some Wilson's warblers. You know, that's what I love about birders; their hospitably inclusive nature. We were as welcome as a man handing out cough drops in a crowded opera house. They had no idea what our skill-level was, nor did they care; only passed along the information of their sightings aloud, and tipped their collective heads backward once more, not missing a beat.

We hung around the park for about an hour and a half, collecting still more species for Ken's growing life-list, while simultaneously breathing in the wonderfully cool and refreshing spring air of the Milwaukee lakefront. We packed it up around 11:00 AM with the smallest "maybe that's enough" silently whispering in each of our brains, and headed for some chow. We drove north to Glendale, WI (the Bayshore Mall area) and discovered a small mom and pop eatery called Irina's Kitchen. I voted aloud that we give it a try, and since I was driving; it was a done deal. Don't you just LOVE the small (non-franchised) places when you find them...kinda' like something truly American in that eh? Well Irina's didn't disappoint in the taste department, (nor in the genuine east European accent department) cause when Irina herself, moved her chubby cheeked mouth to as me if "I vanted zum pumpallllneekle dost vit dat?" I beamed a great big smile and told her "Yes, absolutely, if you'll say it one more time for me." That's America man...Vat a kuntree!

Anyway campers, here's our wonderful species list for 5-23-09 (Greater Milwaukee Area):
{Undt, BOY, did vee zee da varblers!}

Canada Goose (Branta canadensis)
Mallard (Anas platyrhynchos)
Cooper's Hawk (Accipiter cooperii)
Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus)
Ring-billed Gull (Larus delawarensis)
Herring Gull (Larus argentatus)
Rock Pigeon (Columba livia)
Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura)
Chimney Swift (Chaetura pelagica)
Red-headed Woodpecker (Melanerpes erythrocephalus)
Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens)
Hairy Woodpecker (Picoides villosus)
Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus)
Least Flycatcher (Empidonax minimus)
Eastern Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe)
Ash-throated Flycatcher ^ (Myiarchus cinerascens)
Great Crested Flycatcher (Myiarchus crinitus)
Eastern Kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus)
Red-eyed Vireo (Vireo olivaceus)
Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata)
American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos)
Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor)
Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica)
Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus)
Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor)
White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis)
House Wren (Troglodytes aedon)
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher (Polioptila caerulea)
Swainson's Thrush (Catharus ustulatus)
Hermit Thrush (Catharus guttatus)
American Robin (Turdus migratorius)
Gray Catbird (Dumetella carolinensis)
European Starling (Sturnus vulgaris)
Yellow Warbler (Dendroica petechia)
Chestnut-sided Warbler (Dendroica pensylvanica)
Magnolia Warbler (Dendroica magnolia)
Yellow-rumped Warbler (Dendroica coronata)
Black-throated Green Warbler (Dendroica virens)
Blackburnian Warbler (Dendroica fusca)
Palm Warbler (Dendroica palmarum)
Black-and-white Warbler (Mniotilta varia)
American Redstart (Setophaga ruticilla)
Wilson's Warbler (Wilsonia pusilla)
Canada Warbler (Wilsonia canadensis)
American Tree Sparrow (Spizella arborea)
Chipping Sparrow (Spizella passerina)
Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia)
White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys)
Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis)
Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea)
Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus)
Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula)
Brown-headed Cowbird (Molothrus ater)
Baltimore Oriole (Icterus galbula)
House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus)
American Goldfinch (Carduelis tristis)
House Sparrow (Passer domesticus)

Spring Break in the Panhandle (part one)

2009-04-30T20:42:00.014-05:00

There’s nothing more satisfyingly recharging for a northerner, than to reverse migrate in the early spring. Leaving the frozen tundra of the upper Midwest for the milder, sunnier climes of the south, if even for a week, can drive out the long winter chill from your body faster than a frozen penguin on a tanning bed. That’s why, with extreme anticipation, the family and I set out for Panama City just ahead of Easter 2009. We’re campers by nature (and fiscal leaning) so the days of preparation specific to making that happen, are akin to readying the famed Lewis and Clark expedition. In the “old days” BK (before kids) my wife and I could throw a few things in a common suitcase, pack the nylon tent and chairs into the trunk, making sure to bring along a good novel or two, and off we would trundle. Not anymore. “Dad, can the power inverter handle both the DVD player AND the X-Box 360?” and “I know I have a lot of clothes and shoes, but that’s OK, there may be some cute boys…” are common questions and statements from today’s teen-travelers. Gone are the simpler days of butterfly nets and Golden books that used to entertain them for countless hours. Here now are electronic everythings, designed to fill every waking (and sleeping with your IPod earbuds in) hour from sun-up to sun-down. But it could be much worse I guess; they could have declined to go along at all. So I count my blessings as I peek under the Honda Odyssey’s undercarriage, brow furrowing, trying to gauge the narrowing distance to the road surface. Our ultimate destination lay 1100 miles ahead but the tank was full of $ 2.05/gal gas (instead of last spring’s $3.59). The oil and filter were both freshly changed; the washer fluid reservoir filled, ample snacks and hot coffee for the passengers gave every indication that we were READY. Just one more trip back to the locked house as we attempt to leave the driveway, one more quick potty stop before we turn determinedly southward, gleefully leaving Milwaukee in the rearview mirror.

“Remember those days when driving around Chicago were as tedious as giving birth to a piano bench?” I remarked to my sleeping wife. “God bless the inventors of IPASS open road tolling,” I muse as the van breezes along the freeway bypass underneath the overhead scanners. Debit, debit, debit my butt off, you State of Illinois you; at least I don’t have to stop in your flat, Bear-loving, excuse of a state…ahem,…sorry.

The overnight at the Columbus, Indiana Days Inn was a welcome respite after pounding down the highway in the darkness. Those flip-over, make-em’ yourself, Belgian waffles at the complimentary breakfast bar make a great eye-opener too. Next stop would be Pelham, Alabama and the Oak Mountain State Park some 450 miles down the road. We finally arrived at around 6 PM after some pretty scary moments dodging tornadoes in Tennessee and big hail in Kentucky. I had just completed the ringmaster duties (sans red suit and cane) related to the circus of Jayco camper set-up, when I noticed the Purple Martin gourd colony in the turn-around near the lake. The sun was just starting to think about evening retirement so the birds had mostly taken their places in the nest openings. The greater Milwaukee area has a consortium of birding enthusiasts who are actively working towards increasing the likelihood that martins will find the area to their liking. HERE is a link to their Blog, outlining their commendable efforts. A curious southern drawl caught my ear and I turned my head towards the sound. Waddling slowly from a canvas compound set back in the woods ahead of me, ambled an enormous, t-shirt-bellied, NASCAR hat sporting, 100% pure, Alabaman specimen. He was yelling back over at his shoulder to a sleight, mouse brown-haired waif of a woman in sandals, that “you ain’t gonna’ touch my beer, you know? I’ll be back and I wanna’ see it all still there!” A White-throated Sparrow began singing its warbled song as the man approached a beat-to-death, rust brown Chevy Cavalier and pried open the driver’s door. I know my mouth was hanging slightly open as I witnessed the man turn his body, massive butt first into the now open car door, and proceed to wiggle back and forth as he levered his oil-stained, jeans-covered fanny into the void. “Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.” I thought as I couldn’t tear my eyes from the unbelievable scene. Like a front-end loader dumping a boulder into a baby buggy, the man eventually settled his largess onto the godforsaken front seat of the Chevy, then started working on swinging his tree-stump legs around into the driver’s well. I had seen enough of the logistical nightmare for one day, so I backed away from the slow-motion train wreck, to look for more birds.

The next day, some early morning birding yielded some nice sightings. The list of 30 compiled while there, is as follows: Great-crested Flycatcher, Ovenbird, White-throated Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Hairy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Eastern Towhee, Eastern Phoebe, Eastern Towhee, Chipping Sparrow, American Robin, Northern Mockingbird, Whip-poor-will, American Crow, Tufted Titmouse, Brown Thrasher, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Purple Martin, Chimney Swift, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Black-capped Chickadee, White-breasted Nuthatch, Carolina Wren, Eastern Bluebird, Blue Jay, Canada Goose, Cedar Waxwing, Red-eyed Vireo, Red-headed Woodpecker, and Brown-headed Cowbird. After we ate, we all packed up the site and headed for the highway once more.

You know how it is when you are on your way “to” your destination VS coming back “from” it? Well, the next 6 hours in the car flew by as the temperatures rose outside according to the proximity to the Gulf of Mexico. Sorties of Brown Pelicans could be seen soaring high in the sky from out of the car windows, as the swaying pine tree boughs slowly gave way to the bristling palm fronds. Paradise at last, was in reach. The cities of Panama City and Panama City Beach are located along the gulf between Pensacola on the west and Tallahassee on the east.

NOTE: Stay tuned to this blog for the second installment of Spring Break in the Panhandle…

Spring Stimulus Package

2009-04-02T21:05:00.007-05:00

Some stimuli are free and naturally occurring.

Let’s talk stimulating! Nesting time is just around the corner and in some areas, birds have already begun to do what comes naturally and begin. Most birds are not particularly fussy as to exactly where their incubation stations are located, as long as a few key features are present prior to site selection. Turdus Americanus (American Robin) fancies a variety of habitat including; Cities, villages, farmlands, gardens, and open woods. She will build her nest in shrub, tree fork, and horizontal branch or on almost any substantial ledge, principally on a house or outbuilding such as a garage, but rarely on the ground. How many of us can boast about the nest built over the outdoor front light fixture, causing us to cover our head each time we exit the house for fear of an agitated “mother” guarding her chicks. Birds will build their nests from grasses, twigs, sticks, mud and bits of string, plastic bags, and candy wrappers. You can even put colorful scraps of your leftover yarn and floss out in an empty onion bag for birds to find and utilize. Imagine the sight of a bird dwelling high in a tree festooned with brightly colored bits of your handi-crafts.

Birds can also be economical in their recycling techniques. For instance the Blue-gray Gnatcatcher will tear up a completed or partially completed nest and reuse the material to build another nest nearby. Most birds build a new nest each year. Some that have more than one brood in a season will build a nest for each brood. Other species, particularly birds of prey will often repair their nests from year to year and use them for many years in a row.

Why do birds build nests in the first place? Evolution is the simple answer. It is most widely believed that birds evolved from exothermal (cold-blooded) creatures into animals that could no longer abandon their eggs to hatch in the heat of their environment. As warm-blooded creatures, they were compelled to supply warmth for their eggs through incubation. This necessitated the development of protective measures not only for the exposed eggs, but for also for the parent bird. It is believed that nest building became a necessary part of the breeding cycle. The first nests evolved as well as the builders, growing from simple scrapes in the ground, and natural cavities in trees, etc. to the more complex structures we are familiar with today. Intricate camouflage is often interwoven into the exterior to match the surrounding limb or foliage, such as the Acadian Flycatcher, Eastern Wood Pewee or Baltimore Oriole do in the construction of their nests.

City birds such as House Sparrows will take advantage of nearly any man-made device or piece of equipment. While in Rhinelander, Wisconsin last weekend I spotted the clever use of the raised external letters on the side of the local Trig’s grocery store that spelled, “PHARMACY.” These sparrows were happy as a Lark as they sat in the Catbird’s seat watching the shoppers enter and exit the store. It didn’t hurt either that the supply of 50 lb. black oil sunflower seeds were stacked under the drive-through awning, not 20 feet away from these opportunistic survivors. Several bags had “mysteriously” been punctured and were providing the onlookers with occasional stolen moments of enjoyable dining. I even was fortunate to take a photo from the Davenport Street Bridge of a swimming Pine Marten (Fisher) as it crossed the river towards the Wausau paper mill. This is the same area where I will routinely see the year’s first Yellow-rumped Warblers on the banks of the Wisconsin. Rhinelander is the Home of the Hodag don’t cha’ know and the green creature of lore is the same one utilized by the high school as their official mascot, is painted on the sides of the police vehicles, and is also used by several businesses in the city in their names. By the way; Hodags (I’m told) don’t eat claw-fuls of these small migratory breeders, nor do they mess with the feisty Martens…just keep your white Bulldogs in your car with the windows up.

Sources: Hal H. Harrison’s Peterson Field Guides “Birds Nests” (and my fertile imagination.)

March into Spring with Careful Observations

2009-03-12T19:44:00.005-05:00

Just a bit of "featherly" advice: Never Assume

As the old adage goes when you "assume" you are making an ass of U and me. Just because you see that "LBB" (Little Brown Bird) on your wooden fence or lurking at the foot of your shrubbery, that "Oh...it's just another House Sparrow." You see at this time of the year in my neck of the woods, visitors begin to come knocking. Based upon the hand-written records we keep as a family inside the kitchen cupboard door from year to year, it's quite possible for migratory species to begin to investigate the corners of the yard starting now until early June. Those of you reading this (and I sincerely hope that more than I read it) in warmer climes, are no doubt chuckling the knowing titters of the privileged who always have a plethora of species at the whims of your binoculars. Well, I ask patience and understanding as I try to convey the sheer wonder and excitement of that first White-crowned or White-throated Sparrow of the year. I caution you (especially the "ho-hum" amongst you) to look carefully at that next bi-pedal leaf-scratching LBB in the yard as it just might be a Spotted Towhee instead of a run of the mill American Robin.

Have a trusty pair of mid range 8 X 35 binoculars sitting uncased on the closest windowsill and be ready to check out each movement. For this reason, I continue to fill the feeders until (at least) after the migration period hoping to coax a hungry traveler into range for a quick peek. Too bad I still have to go to work, or who knows how long I'd sit and watch. Keep a list of your own handy so that you can nearly predict which species will appear when. So far this year, the American Robins are 10 days earlier than last in Milwaukee and the Dark-eyed Juncos are still here. So the moral of this story is simple: Keep your eyes open, cause Mother Nature is a crafty one who can surprise even the most bored among us with her unpredictability.

Happy (early) Spring Birding Everyone!

* (Oh, and the LBB pictured above is a rare spring visitor to our yard, a Fox Sparrow)

New Park ~ New Possibilities

2009-02-17T18:47:00.009-06:00

Hey you...Park it!

Next time you are in Milwaukee for one of the dozen or so festivals that the residents of this corner of the Dairy State can boast about, don’t forget to visit the newest Wisconsin State Park; Lakeshore. Completed in 2007, this 17 acre piece of land formerly known as Harbor Island, connects the Hank Aaron State Trail, and the Oak Leaf Trail with Milwaukee’s recreational lakefront. This pristine man-made chunk of land forms natural inland harbor sanctuary for many interesting species of bird life, particularly those that float, swim, and dive. A large (20-slip) marina is adjacent to the shore with multiple slips for rental. The fees for which are collected and handled by the Friends of Lakeshore Park. The scenery around the park is what really sells it as a premiere destination as the grounds themselves don't feature a single tree. Plenty of comfy resting spots have been donated and are permanently affixed to the infrastructure, and you can see totally across the entire area, so losing the kiddies is a near impossibility.

I had the pleasure of taking a wintertime stroll with my wife over this past weekend, across the mostly snowless concrete paths, looking for (of course) birds. One does not have to look very hard to see the many birds that congregate. I catalogued Mallards, Coots, Black Ducks, Greater Scaups, Common mergansers, Common Goldeneye and Herring gulls. The acreage was posted quite plainly with signage indicating that whomever was in charge of the design, has chosen a prairie theme, complete with all the necessary plantings to achieve this ecosystem. The signs quietly warned visitors to stay off the inland plantings so as to give them a chance to establish themselves, which was just fine with me as I fought off the intense urge to frolic across them, and just concentrated on the birds.

While standing on the beautiful and artsy Lakeshore State Park Bridge, I noticed that the wind creating its own soundtrack as it whistled through the decorative ironwork that festoons the side safety railings. “What a nice touch,” I thought to myself as I stood listening to the changing pitch, looking through the Bushnells at the dozens of water birds below at the water’s edge. I was transfixed by the activity and the camaraderie amongst the different species, each one doing its own thing, minding its own business, but performing the necessary functions for the continuation of their own niche’…kinda’ like all the many thousands of human visitors to the Summerfest grounds just a hundred yards away. To the west lies the newly finished Discovery World at Pier Wisconsin. Beyond it is the world renowned Santiago Calatrava designed, Milwaukee Art Museum. Funny terminology here...I have always thought that to put the word “museum” with “art” (which is done all the time) is a true misnomer. For me, the word conjures up static dusty old stuff, sitting around forever that is all roped off and inaccessibly boring; bug collections, ancient taxidermy, etc. If anyone ever asked me what I think, I’d tell them to call it the Milwaukee Art Experience or the Milwaukee Art Extravaganza, or some such terminology that (at least) suggests life and newness and something vibrant…but that’s just me and I digress…back to the birds. Are you ready for the Birdstud Bird Quiz? - The water birds in the photo below are numbered 1-4. What are they? - Guesses to birdstud@birdstud.com

All you need to do is take Erie Street to the end, past the Milwaukee River entrance to Lake Michigan, past the red lighthouse, behind the Marcus Amphitheatre, and park your car. Follow the walkway and circle around the isthmus looking at the many avian odysseys. One would not really need a pair of binoculars unless you are a dweeb like me and enjoy differentiating the many species by gender. What can I say…I like birding Okay? So, in conclusion to this little blog, try something “new” as soon as you find yourself popping in (yet again) that tired DVD copy of Ferris Buhler’s Day Off. Get outdoors and notice the wildlife all around you…and Park it for the day, in a different way!

I Count

2009-02-14T10:46:00.008-06:00

I count…do you? The next time your self-esteem is floundering a bit, and you feel as if you are just a fly-spec on the speeding windshield of life…try counting. The Great Backyard Bird Count (held this year, February 13th – 16th 2009) sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and Audubon, offers Joe-six packs and experts alike, the opportunity to be judged by the same yardstick.

Why should anyone count birds? According to the GBBC’s own (official) website: “Scientists and bird enthusiasts can learn a lot by knowing where the birds are. Bird populations are dynamic; they are constantly in flux. No single scientist or team of scientists could hope to document the complex distribution and movements of so many species in such a short time.” It takes no expertice what so ever to count birds seen in your back yard. If you don't recognize what that LBB (Little Brown Bird) is, then just don't count it. Count the ones you know because everything matters from the American Robin, to the common House Sparrow. Just sit, enjoy a cup of your favorite beverage and mark down what you see. So what better way to spend your Valentine’s Day than to sit staring out the window of your own backyard, holding the hand of a loved one, counting the beautiful red Northern cardinals that find your feeder enticing enough to land. How Romantic eh? ...Yah, romantic, you betcha! (and just in case that doesn't work for you and your S.O. try candy and flowers...)

Birding and the Superbowl

2009-01-31T10:12:00.002-06:00

Everything significant has its pinnacle moments.

February 1st 2009 marks the beginning of a new month. For us here in the frigid Great Lakes regions, it is a mere 24 hours before a furry mid size mammal with prominent front teeth, gleefully (if not sleepily) informs us that our favorite season of the year has just gone into triple overtime. However, February 1st this year has the added distinction of being the end of something significant: the NFL Football season. It has also been selected as the day when the biggest, grandest, most watched sporting event of the season is played to determine the best of the best: The Superbowl (XLIII). This day will crown professionals of one participating team as “champions.” Men (only…and you’ll see my point in a few paragraphs) whom we have rooted for, paid to see, lived vicariously through, and built into legends, can be crowned supreme on this day of days. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll have my boob tube dialed in just as eagerly as the next guy to witness the spectacle (if not the commercials) that this game has become. What I’d like to juxtapose here in my little bloggy-world (and who really knows if anyone at all reads the damn thing) is an alternative universe where the World Series of Birding gets the same accolades (and world-wide appeal) as the “big” games.

The WSB as it is often referred to is not held at the “end” of any season, month, of time period that brings anything to its conclusion. Rather it is conveniently scheduled to coincide with one of the two greatest periods in a birding year; spring migration. (The other being fall migration, but then again, you knew that one) It’s name suggests a connection with baseball, borrowing the “World Series” part from the venerable Grand Old Game, but other that an obtuse reference to “fly” balls, there is no direct link I assure you. This year’s 26th annual (and that’s “XXVI” for you roman numeral enthusiasts) WSB will be held May 9th in Cape May New Jersey, in that North American Mecca of all things avian.

To be allowed to enter the WSB competition, wanna-be entrants’ and teams must simply fill out a registration form HERE and pay the fees. Follow the rules and anyone (any team) could be a winner. I have yet to enter, but I know I will someday…rubbing elbows with birding’s finest and most famous as I schlep along with my fellow rookies, hoping for a crumb of knowledge, and a life bird or two.

Here is a chance for the little guy (and little “gal” thank you very much) to participate in an event for all of us schmucks to aspire to. Gender doesn’t factor in, as well as race, creed, color, physical deformities, blindness, politics, or financial standing. Even age isn’t a factor (unless you consider that the older you get, the better you may actually become…shhhhh, you see it’s all about “experience” here) this is a “sport” for everyone. You don’t have to be tall, muscular, handsome, graceful, or physically gifted. Birding is one of the few sports where a favorite cocktail could even be enjoyed while participating. Imagine that one on the gridiron! (Disclaimer…the WSB does not necessarily endorse the consumption of alcoholic-laced or any other beverages for that matter, while in competition…blah, blah, blah…but you get my point here I hope) Here my friends is a sport to be enjoyed from cradle to grave with bad knees and all, and not just when you are in your prime, (or before you go to free agency, whichever comes first) plus no mouth guard is required!

I know you all want to read about the Stud’s Superbowl prediction, don’t you? Well, my method for establishing the winner of the game was very scientific; I invited a representative from each team to my backyard feeder for an interview. Since only the Cardinals accepted my offer and sent their captain, they will win the game…simple.

The final score will be: (Northern) Cardinals 21 – Steelers 17…psssst…a little birdy told me.

Birds of a feather…

2009-01-18T11:24:00.013-06:00

Why do they do it? The better question may be; why do WE?

It’s been theorized for countless years that birds that do indeed “flock” together, do so mainly for safety reasons. (The old “safety in numbers” adage) Some folks opine that the “smaller” birds flock to lend their sheer numbers against a common foe, thereby overpowering the larger interloper with quantity. Life-saving confusion is often the byproduct of instantaneous mass dispersal from the intended landing zone of a hungry predator, and multiple “targets” befuddle a would-be diner when scattered about its table in their panicked evasion attempts. Some birds “huddle” together as a method for survival in the frigid arctic weather, and raise their young en masse to increase survivability. Flocks of birds often are able to locate necessary foraging grounds while working as a cohesive unit. Cooperation amongst species seems to benefit those who see the value in connectedness. Often, similar species will link their proximity for a time too. Some may have “missed the first class bus” of migration and get stuck in coach with the less fortunate. Whatever the reasons, it seems to work for them.

Some even do it (“flock” that is…what did you think I was going to write?) while in flight. Who hasn’t seen Canada Geese overhead in their signature “V” formation? Did you ever ask yourself exactly why, or audibly notice that one side (of a flying goose “V” pattern) is always longer, only to be treated to the standard (Hell-ooo?) retort, “there are more geese on that particular side.” Well, no more…remember, it’s all in the aerodynamics, and leave it at that. If you are stubborn and want more info on this subject, click HERE as “why reinvent the wheel?” Furthermore, many other birds will fly in groups too, such as pelicans, cormorants, ducks, and (my favorite) starlings and the geese get all the attention. So just enjoy the spectacle and natural organization they provide and don’t stand directly beneath large flocks of birds looking up with your mouth open in wonder…just a tip there.

If you too like to watch starlings perform their unique amorphous shape-dancing, the video links below should provide you with many enjoyable minutes of stunning inexplicable wonder. (The first video is quite precious as the family behind the camera pontificates as they film the starling’s attempts at self-organization. Pssst…what they don’t know (God bless ‘em) is that the starlings are flocking for an evening’s roost and have chosen an inappropriately sized shrubbery for their immense numbers…but I applaud their ponderings, but not their undeserved slang moniker, based upon the Latin name of the species. Remember, I always root for the underdogs…)

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Starlings (4)
Starlings (5)

Now that we have explored the avian world a bit and have considered some of the reasons that these animals hang together, let’s peek at ourselves for a moment and attempt to find similarities shall we? I was walking home from a corner store the other morning, fighting the sub-zero cold that had my city in its grip and reflecting on the conversation I had just participated in, when it hit me; commonness! That was it by Jove…that was the “glue” that humans need to “flock” just like birds often do. (Common interests, common pain, common foes, common heroes, common happiness, common whatever.) For the purposes of this blog I will focus on the “common foe” factor: extreme temperature, being one of the strongest. What else brings complete strangers into conversation faster than sharing misery? Small “flocks” of humans quickly develop around similar topics of discussion…think about your office “water-cooler” and the buzz that continues to draw in others, seductively inviting their own contribution to the commonness. Additionally, why do fans of sports teams rally around each other at game time, in strange drinking establishments, with only the hope that the “other” competing team will do poorly? What makes folks instant friends after discovering that cancer is ravaging each other’s loved one? We as a species want to “flock” with common others…we want to have our opinions validated by others, we want to be with like-minded others and we seem to seek out places, situations, discussions, forums, etc. where we are a “part” of something larger than ourselves.

It just might be that while in (our version of the “V”) with a “common” group of fellow people, we find the migration easier, the traveling more enjoyable, the food tastier, and the “warmth” more inviting. Why would common things bring us together in groups and shapes of varying sizes

Who really knows for sure...(Hell-ooo?) there just may be more humans on that particular side.

Habitat for Avianbirdity

2008-12-31T07:55:00.010-06:00

It's wintertime...again

Well, did you get everything you wanted for Christmas this year? Has your life been thoroughly enriched by celebrating "quality time" with relatives and loved ones? (Note the careful separation of the two terms, just in case they are not necessarily synonymous in your life) and finally ask the BIG question; Am I ready for 6 more (months) of winter!?

Well, after you park that big ole' snow-eating machine in the garage for the third time today, stomp off your brown Sorrels on the back door rug, and grab a cup of hot sustenance, it may be time to look inward to your basement for a temporary solution to shack-happy madness...build a bird house. Why a bird house you ask? Well, firstly it's a "birding" blog you have stumbled across (hell-oooh). Secondly, you have always wanted to build one right? Thirdly, It can be very therapeutic and relaxing (if you have been "cleared" on the use of power tools) Fourthly, what were you going to do with all those scrap pieces of wood taking up space and gathering dust anyway? Fifthly (is that truly a word I ask you?) and finally, the birds will thank you so why not?

There are plenty of resources for this worthy endeavor in your local library, bookstore, nearby nature center or pet store. Here are a few links to on-line information you might try as well, but the Internet is FULL of places to surf towards. (Link 1 - Link 2 - Link 3 - Link 4) The most inportant aspect of creating a suitable (ready to move in) dwelling would be the hole size of the entrance, and whether or not there is a perch just outside it. Different birds require different accomodations so begin with which species you wish to assist with house-hunting. Start by noticing which birds you see in your area and build-to-suit. No sense constructing a "spec-home" for upscale birds from uptown, when your neighborhood seems to attract only middle-class shoppers. That's not to say that there are "more desirable" birds that deserve a place to live, while others do not. It's just to state the obvious fact that if (just because) you build it, they might not come (anyway). So with that nugget in mind, here are a few specific homes for specific birds: Chickadee - Wren - Robin - Bluebird - Wood Duck. Know also that many birds will not utilize a bird house regardless of it's splendor and craftsmanship...they just don't do hard sides and a roof. Don't get discouraged if the birds don't find it immediately, or even in the first year it has been hung either. Give it time. Give them time.

There are as many schools of thought regarding which birds are "deserving" of houses as there are discussions and disagreement about even allowing certain birds to live at all. I'm not in those circles and probably would have my membership card (if I had one) retracted for not adhering to "the code" or something, so I just do my own thing. For instance, several years ago I built a house specifically for the many House Sparrows which my yard consistantly attracts. I wanted to build a piece of "functional art" more so than boring accomodation, so I began with the idea of an old western town. I used old barn wood over symetrically square cubicles to decorate the outer sides. I incorporated scenes from old photographs and details from movies I enjoy to create the motif I was hoping for. The result was a pleasing to the eye main street scene, all ready for occupancy, multi-level apartment for the lowly House (formerly English) Sparrow. I really prefer the older term for these hearty stallworts of the urban jungle. I sense another blog topic in here somewhere regarding these misunderstood survivors. The Blue Book of Birds of America (1931) says, "Imported into America and liberated at Brooklyn, N. Y. about 1850, the English sparrow, because of its bullying attitude toward other birds and its destructive habits, is looked upon as an undesirable alien...it should not be confused with our desirable native sparrows." Well la-dee-da I say...I still root for the Green Bay Packers even though Brett has been gone all season, their defense blows, and they missed this year's playoffs. I wish for all fat kids to make the swim team and for nice guys to finally get in the front of the buffet line. Furthermore I say, hurrah for the lowly undesirable English (House) sparrow...Welcome Home ya'll...Welcome!

Seven Swans a Swimming, Six Geese a Laying...

2008-12-22T19:08:00.014-06:00

The Twelve Days of Christmas must have been written by a birder.

Who has not sung or is not familiar with all the counting that goes on in that most famous of Christmas Carols? Did you ever wonder why all the fuss about counting birds? Someone must have been fixated then and probably still is to this day, especially at this time of year. The Christmas Bird Count, or CBC has been going on since the year 1900 with (now) tens of thousands of participants. Granted the majority are not "egg"-headed scientist types, just ordinary citizens doing the counting, but the Audubon Society has been "counting" on them for over 100 years to "feather" their nest of information on birds. The Enderis Park Bird Watching Club (EPBWC) did their part once again this year for the cause. Although 14" of fresh snow had fallen the day before in the Milwaukee area, 6 intrepid "counters" took wing (first for a doughnut and cup of Joe) and then to their mini vans, Durango, and Prius. With maps of "area 16 and 20" in their midst, the group stepped out into the 27 degree air and looked skyward.

The wind brought the temps near zero degrees but that did not dissuade Tammy, Don, Jill, Julie, Nola (and the Birdstud here) from carefully scanning each tree, bush, and open area for their quarry and putting a dash mark aside each enumerated species. Why do this you may ask? My answer would be; Why Not?! The data is valuable, the camaraderie exceptional, plus it's fun to get your fanny outside in the elements from time to time for the sheer exercise. Area 20 was covered by the group in the AM and Area 16 by me in the PM.

The counts we submitted to the Schlitz Audubon Center on Saturday December 20th are as follows:

Area 20 (Final Count)
American Crow - 5
American Robin - 31
Goldfinch - 100
House Finch - 7
White-breasted Nuthatch - 1
Hairy Woodpecker - 1
Downy Woodpecker - 3
Dark-eyed Junco - 4
Northern Cardinal - 9
House Sparrow - 31
European Starling - 105
Northern Flicker - 1
Black-capped Chickadee - 13
Cooper's Hawk - 2
Mourning Dove - 5
Pigeon - 27
Herring Gull - 5
Mallard - 10
Blue jay - 1
Sharp-shinned Hawk - 1
Red-tailed Hawk - 1
Red-bellied Woodpecker - 3
Total Birds - 366

Area 16 (Final Count)
American Crow - 8
American Robin - 30
Goldfinch - 35
House Finch - 35
White-breasted Nuthatch - 2
Downy Woodpecker - 3
Dark-eyed Junco - 19
Northern Cardinal - 16
House Sparrow - 60
European Starling - 180
Black-capped Chickadee - 10
Mourning Dove - 13
Herring Gull - 3
Mallard - 10
Fox Sparrow - 1
Tree Sparrow - 1
Total Birds - 426