12 Months of Nature: May

Breeding Horseshoe Crabs

May’s adventure marked a return to the same general location as my February trip, but with a different target in mind. This time I was making my way to the shores of the Delaware Bay to observe breeding horseshoe crabs and the related food web in action. On the surface, that may not sound like something worth a two-hour drive, but I was lured by a mental picture of a thick blanket of horseshoe crabs covering sandy beaches while shorebirds greedily feasted. After all, up until this trip I had almost exclusively seen horseshoe crabs singly or in small groups, and post-mortem. Their otherworldly appearance fascinates me. So, I took an extra vacation day I had in my pocket, rose early, and headed for the DuPont Nature Center and Slaughter Beach.

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scoped view of a black-bellied plover amid some dunlin

“Come for the crabs, stay for the shorebirds,” should be the tagline. I was a little early for the peak activity – my schedule would not permit otherwise – but still there was enough for me to understand why this phenomenon has an accompanying festival and generates quite a bit of naturalist buzz. The basics are that the Delaware Bay provides optimal conditions for horseshoe crabs to breed in late Spring, supporting more of the crabs than anywhere else. Migratory shorebirds, particularly red knots and ruddy turnstones, have in turn learned to exploit the predictability of this cycle, timing their Spring migration to include a stop on the Bay’s beaches on their northward journey. These birds are following a particularly long migratory path and thus arrive often near starvation and always in need of energy. Without this food source most would not be able to complete the trip.

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I obeyed the rules, though admittedly sometimes pushing them as far as these swallows.

My first stop was at the DuPont Nature Center, which is a renowned spot for viewing shorebirds. There was a birding group who arrived around the same time I did, and the leader was kind enough to point some birds out for me and include me as a sort of de-facto member. With her help and the aid of my scope, I was able to pick out dozens of dunlin, ruddy turnstones, sanderlings, and short-billed dowitchers. There were also a smattering of willets and semipalmated sandpipers and of course hundreds of “shorebird x” birds. What was a little surprising was an apparent shortage of red knots – the poster child for this whole thing. There were some, but not the numbers I’d expected. The Nature Center staff assured us they were around, though – they reported counting hundreds in a banding project just days before. Of course the shorebirds were not alone. laughing gulls, herring gulls, and common terns shared the beach and skies with them, as did several osprey and a small flock of barn swallows. Seemingly every post supported a double-crested cormorant. I spent about an hour and a half here and could tell this was going to be a successful day.

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A crab I thought was dead waves its appendages frantically to disabuse me of this notion.

Next up was Slaughter Beach. This was the spot where I expected not to be able to move without treading on horseshoe crabs. That would prove to be an unfounded assumption, but the crabs were abundant – living and deceased. Every few yards was a live crab, or a carapace, or a pile of discarded crab guts. Trails in the sand told the story of their journeys after being deposited ashore by the mild surf. The birds were far less plentiful here, and I got the impression that so were the crabs. The action seemed to mostly be taking place on sandbars and sheltered flats, as well as beachheads less accessible to the public. Still, I enjoyed every moment of the stroll and came upon some unexpected bonuses. For example, I was definitely not expecting the large numbers of purple martins swooping and diving over the sand. I also had to do a double-take at several skates swimming in the shallows, and at the eastern diamondback terrapins peering cautiously from the waters. At first I put the two together in my mind, thinking I was spotting sea turtles. I may have nerded out extensively before I figured out the truth… but this was OK, because I was fine with nerding out over the truth anyway.

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This particular terrapin was unlucky.

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Having already checked off the two big purposes for the trip, I still had a few hours to kill. So, recalling a great experience from a few months ago I returned to Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge. Once again this proved a rewarding choice. This was a second great opportunity to check off some shorebirds on my year and life lists, and included the highlight of the trip: a pair of American avocets. These were a first for me and are among the coolest-looking birds I have ever seen. The thin, upcurved bill, upright posture, and white stripe just makes them look so elegant.

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An American avocet

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Prior Months of Nature

January – Bald Eagles
February – Winter Beaches
March – Tundra Swans
April – Early Spring Wildflowers

Early Cicadas

Cicadas are confusing little buggers. Or bugs, if you like. “Large insects” if you want to be technical. When I was a kid, my understanding was that there were two kinds of cicada: annual and “seven-year.” False! I also thought the annuals lived their whole life cycle in a single year, whereas the seven-year variety hibernated underground for the years between emergences. False! I probably also thought a lot of other false things about cicadas, but those are the things I remember.

 

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Magicicada septendecim

Fortunately, biologists have this cicada thing on lock. Magicicada.org has a wealth of information on periodic cicadas (those of the genus Magicicada). There are seven known species of Magicicada, three of which have a seventeen-year life cycle and four of which have a thirteen-year life cycle. Most of a periodic cicada’s life is spent in its nymph stage, tunneling below the ground in search of food. The entire generation (locally) emerges at once to metamophose into its adult stage. The adults explode into several months of noisy mating then die as their progeny hatch and head back underground.

Scientists have grouped the emergences into “Broods,” each of which is designated with a Roman numeral and has a predictable 17 or 13 year cycle. Broods may comprise one or multiple species. Occasionally a brood of 17-year cicadas overlaps with a brood of 13-year cicadas for a completely bonkers display of insectery. There are also often “stragglers” appearing in the off years – the term is used to refer to both early and late individuals.

 

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The May 6 Evidence

Why am I talking about this now? The Washington, DC area is next due for a brood (Brood X) of Magicicadas (the 17-year kind) in 2021. Yet people in the area have been reporting sighting of Magicicada for the past few weeks. I photograpphed one on 5/6 but assumed it was an annual cicada. Laurel asked me a few days later why we were seeing so many, and I assumed it was just a good year for the various annual species. Then I saw a couple of articles about it, and on 5/18 I counted over a hundred individuals in my backyard over about fifteen minutes. It seems there are quite a lot of stragglers, and a full four years early.

A brief aside about those annual cicadas: First, these aren’t a single species either but many species distributed among several genera. I think the most common, or at least the most reliably identified, is sometimes called the “dog day” cicada, Neotibicen tibicen. Anyway, it is not a one-year lifespan that makes these species “annual.” These cicadas also live several years, mostly as nymphs. The difference is that the ages of individuals are staggered – they do not all reach adulthood in the same year and therefore are not all on the same breeding clock. This is an enormous distinction and serves to illustrate just how odd the breeding of periodic cicadas is. Can you imagine if every adult human produced offsprinng once every seventeen years and never in between? Picture the media frenzy each cycle in the months leading up to “sex year.”

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Back to the periodics. What is going on here? Is the whole brood going to emerge this year, or just an unusually high and concentrated group of stragglers? Are all three species part of this phenomenon? If it is the whole brood, is the cycle just going to advance for four years in perpetuity? Will the next one overcompensate and last 21 years? Is Brood X about to switch from a 17 to a 13 year cycle? For all of these questions, add: why?

Is it Climate Change? I have seen this assertion many times already, and I’m not sure how well it stacks up. I can’t imagine the trigger to emerge after 17 years is temperature, but Climate Change is must more complex than just rising temperatures. It would be emotionally satisfying to have one more example of the chaos wrought by Climate Change, but for this very reason I am unwilling to assume it is the case and accept the easy answer.I’ll be fascinated to see what cause entomologists do attribute this too (I bet it’s not chemtrails or GMOs, WINK) and how they go about figuring it out.

YOU can help the entomologists get there by reporting sightings here. It’s a remarkably easy online mechanism that only takes a few minutes, and every data point is helpful. So if you see cicadas with big red eyes consider doing your part.

Global Big Day 2017

Yesterday, May 13th, was Global Big Day. Global Big Day is an annual event sponsored by a whole host of birding groups across the globe with the intent to get as much data as possible into eBird. This was my first year participating (and frankly, my first year aware of its existence) and I had a blast! Along with 14,000 people I’ve never met as far as I know, I helped gather and report sightings of thousands of birds. Data is still coming in but as of this writing 5,884 total bird species have been logged. I was able to nab 61 myself, which in comparison is not very many but is a huge day for me. Among those 61 species were 11 more for my year list, of which 8 were new additions to my life list. I began the day with a goal of 50 species and hopefully three or four new ones, so I am overall quite pleased with the day. Yet there are groups who managed to log nearly twice as many birds as I have on my life list in a single day… perspective.

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Canada geese may be among the most boring and irritating birds, but their young sure are adorable.

It was raining pretty steadily when I woke up, but I had steeled myself for this eventuality during the preceding week and was not about to let that stop me. So, at 6:15 AM I tromped off into Wheaton Regional Park. I focused my first efforts of the day in the area around Pine Lake and the miniature train. It began humbly enough, as most birding checklists seem to, with robins, cardinals, and mourning doves. It wasn’t long, though, before I had added several of the most common May birds I was missing for the year: first a common yellowthroat, then a pair of enthusiastically singing red-eyed vireos. Three yellow warblers and a pair of northern parulas soon followed. There are some large pines near the train station that always seem to have some kind of interesting bird activity. I paused there for a long time, straining for a good look at several warblers that were darting about. I wasn’t able to ID any of them – the flashes of black, white, and yellow I saw weren’t nearly enough nor did I recognize their songs. Before moving on, however, I did pick up a surprising veery. That was a new one for me, and it took me a lot of staring and phone-pokery, and then finding someone else’s corroborating report, for me to accept my conclusion.

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A red-winged blackbird sat still just barely long enough for a quick phone snap

My next checklist began still within Wheaton Regional Park, but this time focusing on Brookside Gardens and the Nature Center. I didn’t add any new life or year-list birds here, but I did add several of the more common birds I didn’t find around Pine Lake, including the first pileated woodpecker of the day. I also spent some time watching and listening to some Baltimore orioles and following the graceful dives and turns of several barn swallows. For boring semantic reasons I started a separate checklist when leaving the park around 10 AM to return home. Here again I mostly fleshed out the everyday birds I was almost certain to see at some point, with one notable exception. I spied what I assumed was a wood thrush, but something just didn’t seem quite right. It sang and then I knew it was a different bird, but what kind? I turned to the Merlin bird ID tool and found the most likely culprits, noting the key features. I tracked the bird back down (it fortunately had not moved far) and centered it in my binoculars. Between the smudgy white eyering and chest pattern I had it – a Swainson’s thrush, and another first for me.

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I told you goslings were cute.

I returned home for lunch and to plan out my next trip, which turned out to include the highlight of the day. It certainly helped that it had stopped raining by then and I had thrown on some fresh clothes. At about 1:15 I arrived at my next spot: Meadowside Nature Center in Rock Creek Regional Park. In general this was a surprising gem with a lot to offer – I will need to return for more than just a birding trip to explore further. I arrived to find another pileated woodpecker on the ground poking at a stump not ten feet from where I’d parked and immediately knew I had chosen well. I paused to check out their raptor cages: a red-shouldered hawk, barred owl, and bald eagle (no, I didn’t count those). I meandered through some short trails at first, where I happened upon a small group of American redstarts emphatically either welcoming me or telling me to go away. After a while of wandering I came to the Study Pond, and here was a bird-nerd’s delight. I first noticed a number of swallows (tree and bank) zipping above the surface. Then I found that what I thought were more swallows executing acrobatic U-turns were in fact cedar waxwings – fifteen or more of them. When I passed around to the far bank for a closer look, a flash of blue caught my eye. It turned out to be a blue grosbeak – another first for me. I was rewarded with two great views of this stunning and unmistakable bird. I stayed to observe all this activity through my scope for half an hour or so.

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A tree swallow with the study pond in the background

I concluded the day’s birding by making a circuit of the nearby Lake Bernard Frank. Most of the birds here were repeat sightings, and none were brand new to me, but I did manage to add a few good ones to the day’s list, notably some double-crested cormorants and a bald eagle. There were a few moments where I was nearly certain I had heard a red-headed woodpecker’s distinctive screaming “Tchurr” call but I was unable to confirm it. The eagle would be the last species tallied for the day, which was somehow fitting.

 

Favorite Bird of the Day: Blue Grosbeak
Most Surprising Bird of the Day: Veery
Most Disappointing Miss: Scarlet Tanager
Most Surprising Miss: Chimney Swift
Most Abundant Bird: American Robin
Birds Appearing on All Five Lists: Red-Bellied Woodpecker, Blue Jay, American Crow, American Robin, Chipping Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Baltimore Oriole

Final Tally

Canada Goose (35)
Wood Duck (5)
Mallard (3)
Double-Crested Cormorant (8)
Great Blue Heron (3)
Green Heron (2)
Black Vulture (1)
Turkey Vulture (1)
Osprey (4)
Bald Eagle (1)
Solitary Sandpiper (1)
Mourning Dove (32)
Red-Bellied Woodpecker (23)
Downy Woodpecker (6)
Hairy Woodpecker (2)
Northern Flicker (5)
Pileated Woodpecker (3)
Eastern Phoebe (1)
Great Crested Flycatcher (2)
Eastern Kingbird (3)
Red-Eyed Vireo (2)
Blue Jay (13)
American Crow (17)
Fish Crow (7)
Northern Rough-Winged Swallow (7)
Tree Swallow (4)
Bank Swallow (3)
Barn Swallow (4)
Carolina Chickadee (21)
Tufted Titmouse (5)
White-Breasted Nuthatch (9)
House Wren (1)
Carolina Wren (8)
Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher (18)
Eastern Bluebird (6)
Veery (1)
Swainson’s Thrush (1)
Wood Thrush (16)
American Robin (58)
Gray Catbird (13)
Northern Mockingbird (2)
European Starling (7)
Cedar Waxwing (15)
Ovenbird (6)
Common Yellowthroat (1)
American Redstart (4)
Northern Parula (2)
Yellow Warbler (3)
Yellow-Rumped Warbler (3)
Chipping Sparrow (21)
White-Throated Sparrow (1)
Eastern Towhee (8)
Northern Cardinal (55)
Blue Grosbeak (1)
Red-Winged Blackbird (19)
Common Grackle (17)
Brown-Headed Cowbird (2)
Baltimore Oriole (9)
House Finch (3)
American Goldfinch (17)
House Sparrow (27)

Total Identified Birds – 561

April for a Maryland Naturalist

April is a busy month for a dedicated naturalist in Maryland (and I suppose probably the rest of the Northern Hemisphere). It’s when one can expect to start seeing early spring wildflowers and trees in bloom. It’s amphibian breeding season, so it is an excellent time to find frogs, toads, and salamanders and observe the various stages in their life cycles. Snakes and turtles rouse themselves and begin their ritual basking. Butterflies can be found on the wing with increasing frequency. It’s peak migration for a lot of migratory birds and begins the return of summer residents. For gardeners it’s time to start thinking about prepping beds, pruning, taking those seedlings outside, sowing, weeding… the list goes on. It rains a lot – and often unexpectedly – but it’s otherwise the perfect time to be outside.

Early Spring Wildflowers & Trees

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Virginia spring beauties
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wood anemone
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golden ragwort
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star chickweed

Amphibians

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salamander, species TBD
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another salamander, species also TBD (this species appear to possess a strange camouflaging property that causes it to appear blurry in photographs.)

Snakes & Turtles

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an eastern black ratsnake just hangin’ out
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A northern red-bellied turtle saying hello.
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a grizzled old snapping turtle who decided the grass was greener (or the water was wetter, I guess?) in the other pond.
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a northern water snake that did NOT like that I was all up in his business. In fairness I didn’t see it until after it fled.
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what I think is a spotted turtle (but may be a painted turtle) perched atop what I am quite confident is a red-eared slider.

Butterflies

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first tiger swallowtail of the season
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pearl crescents mating

Returning Birds

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a Baltimore Oriole
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some purple martins
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a green heron

Gardening

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flats of seedlings under a grow lamp
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a stump planter for some annuals
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some veggies – to be planted tomorrow
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accenting returning perennials with some brightly colored annuals
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I told everyone the rock pile would eventually serve a purpose…

 

 

 

Earth Day/Science March

Fair warning: this post will be a tad political. I don’t want to use this space often for such things, but after careful consideration this topic is relevant to my content and frankly has no business being political in the first place. I am talking about the acceptance of facts and science. Our current administration is hardly the first to have an adversarial relationship with the scientific method, nor is it exclusive to conservatives in general. It is nonetheless much more on the surface now, and so I chose to celebrate Earth Day by attending the March for Science and writing about it.

I will focus on climate change here, as it’s one of the most relevant, most publicized, and most important manifestations of the rejection of science. It is hardly the only case in which science is willfully rejected; it happens with evolution, gun control, abortion, human sexuality, fracking, and really any topic about which people have strongly held opinions and/or financial interests. I understand it and am not immune. We all tend to reject things that don’t support our existing belief structure. It’s not exactly science, but just this week there was an argument in my office about which direction a backslash goes. We looked it up, and I was one of those on the wrong side. Despite the unanimous agreement of the sources we consulted, it was hard for me to accept my wrongness. Isn’t that stupid? I did accept it, though, and I guess the point I’m making is that we should try to be aware of our biases toward what we already think. It’s this one, by the way: \.

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Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker giving an interview at the March for Science

I mentioned in the mission statement of this blog that I have no patience for climate denial, and I don’t. Climate change is real. It’s objectively proven, consensus has been established, and the models for its impacts have proven essentially accurate. I didn’t arrive at this conclusion without doubts. During college I was exposed to the opposing views and few dissenting publications, via news and Michael Crichton’s State of Fear, among other things. At that time I did have a strongly held belief that climate change was real and anthropogenic, but I forced myself to review and study the science that seemed to support the other side. As I did so, I came to find that those works were systematically refuted by better science. I say all of this not to take some sort of moral high ground but to establish that on this particular topic I have done my due diligence and I do not speak from ignorance.

If I had doubts of my own, why am I so aggressively opposed to climate denial now? Because doubt is an important part of the scientific method, and the evidence is more than strong enough to withstand that doubt. Because the “science” of dissension has become more fringe and earned those quotation marks. Because rejecting this particular science is not just wrongheaded and short-sighted, it is dangerous. If you don’t believe in evolution I will disagree with you, and I will argue, but ultimately your belief does no direct harm to others and so I can accept it. Deniers of human-caused climate change are doing tangible harm to me and to the world in which I live by way of their beliefs, and so this is a disagreement I cannot ignore.

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And some slick dinosaurs

I can’t quite wrap my brain around the arrogance of politicians and pundits that tells them their opinion on a scientific matter is more valid than that of the actual scientists who have dedicated their careers to studying it. Of course my opinion isn’t more valid than those scientists either, but the difference here is that I find myself in agreement with the climate scientists. There are surely subjects on which I hold opinions or beliefs in opposition to the scientists in that field. I am almost certainly wrong about virtually all of those things. I hope I am wise enough to accept that wrongness and adjust my worldview when and if I learn about the science that contradicts me.

I suppose I’ve spewed forth on this long enough now,  so I’ll just end by saying Happy Earth Day!

One Hundred Birds!

That is, one hundred species of birds. That’s right, last week in Shenandoah National Park, in addition to spotting all those lovely wildflowers, I reached 100 species in my 2017 bird blitz. Now that it’s been a few days I am actually sitting at 104, but who’s counting? (Me.) Eleven more of those birds are new to my life list, bringing that total to twenty-one – which means there are 20 birds on my pre-existing life list I can miss and still reach my goal (exceed in 2017 the number of birds on my pre-2017 life list). There are somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 that I don’t stand a great chance of seeing this year, so that target is getting tantalizingly close.

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A double-crested cormorant in the Everglades

Those new-to-me birds finally started branching out from the waterfowl. I’m starting to round out my sparrows (fox, American tree, and swamp) and entering the manic, zippy world of warblers (pine, yellow-rumped, and palm). The black-crowned night heron has been a conspicuous blank spot for me for years, so that was a welcome find.

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A yellow-crowned night heron in Sligo Creek Park last month

So, let’s pause the self-congratulations and talk about the other side. What have I missed? ebird.com has a handy tool called “target species.” If I set it to April and Montgomery County it will spit out a list of birds, in order of abundance (represented by % of checklists containing that bird). This tells me what birds in my area I’ve probably walked right by the most. Here are my top ten whiffs: northern parula (14.2%), common yellowthroat (11.3%), field sparrow (11.3%), green heron (9.1%), Louisiana waterthrush (9.1%), chimney swift (8.6%), white-eyed vireo (6.4%), great crested flycatcher (5.9%), prothonotary warbler (5.7%), and Bonaparte’s gull. Like last time, feel free to troll me with all your beautiful photos of those birds.

Speaking of photos… I don’t exactly have a ton of good ones of this new group of 32 birds. I have pulled some from my archives which are at least the same species. It turns out that birds – especially small ones like warblers and sparrows – are not the easiest things to photograph with an iPhone and/or a mid-range point-and-shoot. I did buy a decent spotter’s scope a month or so ago, and it’s been a great tool, but I haven’t quite mastered the skill of aiming the thing while lining up my camera lens with the eyepiece. I’ll get there.

Lucky bird #100 was a barn swallow in a tree near the back of Big Meadows (and soon after I spotted another in flight nearby). Barn swallows are a common sight in the spring and summer months around here; in my neighborhood they like to nest under the structures in Brookside Gardens which sit out over the ponds. If I had to hazard a guess, bird 105 will be a green heron – they too like to hang out in the park near my home and they’re conspicuous. You never know, though – that great egret was picked up entirely by accident while driving on the highway for a work trip.

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Some barn swallows in Wheaton Regional Park last year

List of birds since the last check-in (new to life list in bold):

73. double-crested cormorant
74. red-tailed hawk
75. fox sparrow
76. eastern phoebe
77. tundra swan
78. American tree sparrow
79. gadwall
80. golden eagle
81. yellow-crowned night heron
82. greater scaup
83. tree swallow
84. black-crowned night heron
85. swamp sparrow
86. blue-winged teal
87. brown-headed cowbird
88. pine warbler
89. golden-crowned kinglet
90. brown creeper
91. chipping sparrow
92. gray catbird
93. ruby-crowned kinglet
94. yellow-rumped warbler
95. Northern rough-winged swallow
96. blue-gray gnatcatcher
97. palm warbler
98. common raven
99. brown thrasher
100. barn swallow
101. house wren
102. osprey
103. Canvasback
104. great egret

12 Months of Nature: April

Early Spring Wildflowers/Blue Ridge In Blossom

As always, this month’s journey was selected from Seasonal Guide to the Natural Year. The advantage to “early spring wildflowers” as a topic is that one can experience them more or less anywhere, without the need to target a specific destination. I chose Shenandoah National Park (specifically Big Meadows and the Mill Prong Trail) because it’s one of my favorite places and because it happened to coincide with another chapter in the book: The Blue Ridge in Blossom, also wildflower-related. Laurel, Frosclin and I hopped in the car on Good Friday and made our way there.

I have to admit, when we arrived at Big Meadows the wildflower prospects did not look quite like I had hoped…

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Yeah. I later learned that this was a “prescribed” burn, meaning it was initiated and controlled by the Park Rangers. This is good for the environment but bad for people hoping to spot some exotic wildflowers in the meadow. Instead the meadow was charred and desolate at first glance. However, it was bursting with song sparrows (somehow still able to hide quite well) and other birds. At the woods’ edge one could almost feel the life poised to spring back out onto the open plain as soon as the time was right. Seeing the place like this was a mixed bag of emotions. We’ve been there in all four seasons and it shows stark differences from one to the next. Now we can add “fire season” to that list. It was fascinating, and I know the fire wasn’t “bad,” but I couldn’t help feeling a little bit wistful standing there among the ashes.

Things immediately returned to normal once Laurel chose the Mill Prong Trail as the locus for the bulk of our trip. At first I thought we’d be looking at a bit of a thin selection of flowers while seeing mostly not-yet-flowering plants. It was a little early and despite the mild winter the mountains of Shenandoah tend to lag a couple weeks behind the DC area in blooming. For the first half-mile or so of our hike that rang mostly true: we found dandelions, purple and downy yellow violets, more bloodroot, cutleaf toothwort, and spring beauties in bloom alongside the greenery of mayapple and false hellebore (and some other green plants I lack the skill to identify without their flowers).

I was having that exact conversation with Laurel after spotting some trilliums that were just not quite ready to blossom when suddenly these kinds of plants began to give way to large-flowered trillium and trout lilies. scattered among them were a few wild geraniums and a smattering of star chickweed. Then we happened across a small patch of golden ragwort. Clearly spring had truly come to Shenandoah, and clearly Franklin had some sort of ragwort-related apprehensions.

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trout lily
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large-flowered trillium
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golden ragwort, one needlessly wary dog, and one regular dog

Rounding out the blossoms as we approached the Rapidan Camp (more on that in a minute) were buttercups, mock strawberries, wood anemone, chickweed (of the non-astral variety this time), garlic mustard (boo), phlox, red maple, redbud, and one bush with tiny yellow flowers which I couldn’t quite identify.

The Rapidan Camp, which I had either never heard of or at least not known its significance, is a collection of cabins on lovely grounds just a few miles south of Big Meadows. This was apparently Herbert Hoover’s retreat during his Presidency and it is now largely as it was then. Apparently one of our worst Presidents at least had good taste! We happened upon an archaeology class there and chatted for a few moments about their project and our dogs. It was all just a wonderfully pleasant pause before we commenced our return hike.

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redbud in bloom on the Camp grounds

Prior months of nature:

January – Bald Eagles
February – Winter Beaches
March – Tundra Swans