Butterfly Garden Progress Report Part 2 of 2

I shared Part 1 of this piece back in August. To recap, by “progress” I mean “how much wildlife has my habitat garden brought to my yard?” Last time I covered the most obvious category – butterflies and moths – and today I will focus on everything else. This all comes with the same caveat as before: I have no baseline wildlife survey to compare this to. I’m really just making a self-congratulatory list of wildlife sightings in my yard. Somehow, I am OK with that!

Before I move on, I do want to briefly mention four additional lepidopterans since August: the eastern comma (Polygonia comma), tobacco hornworm, aka Carolina sphinx moth (Manduca sexta), raspberry pyrausta moth (Pyrausta signatalis), and giant leopard moth (Hypercompe scribonia).

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An eastern comma dining on some persimmons with yellowjackets.

Insects, Non-Lepidopteran

Insects are an overwhelmingly diverse Class of animal life. I will never be able to identify to species every insect I find in my yard. There are plenty I can, though (especially with help). I’m able to put many more into the appropriate Family or Genus. Based on that, I am able to confidently list 90 insect species for my yard, including the butterflies and moths from the last post. That number doesn’t precisely represent individual insects confidently identified to species, although there is only a little fluff. “Fluff” in this case just means an insect I am very confident is a different species from any of the others included. For example, my garden was visited by a juvenile praying mantis for about a week last year. I can’t tell the difference between a Carolina and a Chinese mantis at that stage, but I can certainly say it wasn’t an ant or a caterpillar. Bees and wasps I can treat similarly: I can spot the difference between a yellowjacket and a bumblebee but am not well-versed in recognizing the individual species of each.

Spiders

Spiders are tough. When I get a photo to review, I am often confronted with notes like “identification to species requires dissection,” or find that I need to be able to see a very specific detail very clearly. Consequently, despite encountering certainly thousands of spiders I only have 16 species on my life list. Of those, only six have I found in my yard. They are: marbled orbweaver, basilica orbweaver, orchard orbweaver, woodlouse hunter, broad-faced sac spider, and Pholcus manueli. I can add at least four “fluff” species (a green crab spider, a jumping spider, a grass spider, and a brownish orbweaver) for a total of ten.

Mecynogea lemniscata (3)
A basilica orbweaver tending its distinctive egg sacs

Other Invertebrates

Isn’t that specific? As much as I hate to lump all this together it’s so much more convenient than typing up categories for each individual kind of invertebrate. I am not enough of an expert to ID many of the included creatures precisely anyway. So what do I have here? The wood tick and house centipede are present for sure. I’ve found earthworms, pill bugs, harvestmen, centipedes, and millipedes of an unknown number of species each. At least three species of slug round out the list. That’s another ten animals in total, under the most conservative of estimates.

Birds

Thanks to eBird, I have very good data on the bird species I have spotted in my yard. It comes to forty-three species, and while none of these is particularly uncommon and five or so are merely flyovers, that feels like a pretty good number. And yet… just a few blocks away in Wheaton Regional Park birders have collectively tallied over 170 species. I’ve found more than sixty there myself. I won’t likely be attracting any, say, spotted sandpipers to my yard… but there is some room for improvement.

Zenaida macroura (6)
A mourning dove, an eastern towhee, and some white-throated sparrows beneath one of my feeders.

Cardinalis cardinalis (21)

Mammals

This is a short and boring list (but try telling my dogs that!) Eastern gray squirrel, eastern fox squirrel, southern flying squirrel, eastern chipmunk, eastern cottontail, Norway rat, white-footed mouse, white-tailed deer, human, dog. Add some unidentified species of mice and bats, and it’s an even dozen. I do think the dogs somewhat cut down on the mammal population I might otherwise see here… I have after all come across groundhogs and foxes in the neighborhood and I know raccoons, possums, and skunks are about. As irritating as the rat population is, at least they’ve never made it inside.

Amphibians

An even shorter, but hopefully less boring, list:

Northern green frog

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gray (or possibly Cope’s gray) treefrog

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American toad (no one needs a picture of one of these, right?

And that’s the list! So to recap, that’s a grand total of: 90 insects, 10 spiders, 10 other invertebrates, 43 birds, 12 mammals, and 3 amphibians – 168 total animal species cataloged in my yard. All my instincts say that 168 is a big number, yet as I mentioned above more species of birds alone have been recorded in our neighborhood park.

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

New Year, (Mostly) Old Birds

As I enter my age-33 naturalism season,* I find myself seeking new challenges to keep me on my toes. One of those is to continue the improvement and expansion of my butterfly garden. Another is to keep the momentum going on this blog. Most of the rest are general, like “continue to learn about nature” and “ride my bike more.” So far there is only one challenge for the coming year that I’ve put a number on, and that is birding.

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A northern cardinal at my in-laws’ feeder

I was at my in-laws’ home to celebrate the New Year, and I couldn’t help but sit and watch their feeders for big chunks of each day. The common feeder birds there aren’t all that different from those here, but they had this chair in the window and I didn’t have any pressing tasks to accomplish, so I indulged. I was also able to work in some nature walks and talk the family into joining me for some of them. I suppose in winter on Cape Cod it is all about the birds. In addition to the backyard birds I saw an abundance of interesting waterfowl at the Cape Cod Canal. The abundance and diversity inspired me to formulate a personal challenge; in 2017 I want to document more species of birds than I have confirmed in my life prior to 2017.

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An enormous flock of common eiders at one end of the Cape Cod Canal. This was the largest of four or five flocks we saw.

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Even Franklin and Oscar were in on the birding.

That probably sounds like a lofty goal, but it’s no Big Year. I am still learning to distinguish many types of birds, so it’s certain that I don’t have confirmed sightings of many of the birds I have actually seen. As of 12/31/16 my lifetime list stood at 160 species, setting my challenge bar at 161. By contrast, North American birders’ Big Years go well over 500 species (and the top ten are all over 700). So my goal is a Modest Year by expert standards which just happens to be a big one for me.

I think the target is attainable. I reached 33 species over the first five days of the year, and I really only had free daylight hours in which to look on two of those days. More significantly, three of those species were new to my lifetime list. The real challenge is going to be finding enough new-to-me species to make up for those I’ve recorded before but have virtually no chance of finding this year. There are another 30-50 no-doubters which I will see just by virtue of spending time outside in Eastern North America, and frankly the vast majority of the 160 pre-2017 species are relatively common birds. After logging only duplicates yesterday, this morning before even leaving my home I saw 18 total species, checking off 5 more for the year. A short walk in late afternoon added 4 more for the day, two of which were new for the year. That puts me at 25% of my goal with 2% of time expended. The redhead I saw in Wheaton Regional Park’s Pine Lake was another addition to my lifetime list.

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An eastern towhee, mourning dove, and a pair of white-throated sparrows beneath one of my feeders this morning.
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The best shot I could get of the redhead, spotted keeping to the outskirts of a small flock of Canada geese.

Me from a few years ago would find it odd that birding is such a focus for me in 2017; as recently as 2011 or so I’d say that birds (especially the everyday birds of suburbia) were of little interest to me in comparison to other wildlife. That’s not to say I didn’t like birds, but they were a lower priority to me for some reason. I think it was partly a surrender after struggling to ID them in the field. Then I got the Sibley Guide to Birds, discovered the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s “All About Birds” website (and later, their app) and got a good pair of binoculars. Trips to the Everglades and Costa Rica didn’t hurt, either.

Now that I’ve spent a few years studying the birds I see with a careful eye (and ear) some things which seemed hopelessly murky are much clearer to me. Small, drab birds used to all look alike to me, but now it only takes a couple of seconds to pick out a house sparrow, white-throated sparrow, song sparrow, dark-eyed junco, house finch, or winter-plumage American goldfinch. Birdsong also once sounded to me like a complicated mishmash of high-pitched squeals, but I can reliably identify many common species by ear these days.

I’ll wrap this up with my 2017 list so far (in order of first sighting).First-time sightings in bold.

  1. white-breasted nuthatch
  2. black-capped chickadee
  3. northern cardinal
  4. house sparrow
  5. dark-eyed junco
  6. tufted titmouse
  7. American goldfinch
  8. downy woodpecker
  9. white-throated sparrow
  10. song sparrow
  11. red-bellied woodpecker
  12. Carolina wren
  13. American crow
  14. mallard
  15. Canada goose
  16. hooded merganser
  17. hairy woodpecker
  18. common eider
  19. ring-billed gull
  20. bufflehead
  21. red-breasted merganser
  22. lesser black-backed gull
  23. American black duck
  24. great black-backed gull
  25. common loon
  26. surf scoter
  27. white-winged scoter
  28. mute swan
  29. American wigeon
  30. Carolina chickadee
  31. European starling
  32. rock dove
  33. American robin
  34. mourning dove
  35. Eastern towhee
  36. northern flicker
  37. blue jay
  38. northern mockingbird
  39. redhead
  40. house finch
*shout-out to all my sports nerd readers who get that joke, by which I am pretty sure I mean one dude.

Scat Cat Spat About Cat Scat (And Other Fecal Matters)

I confess, I’m just posting about the skill of tracking, specifically as it applies to identifying and interpreting animal scat, tracks, and other “signs.” I didn’t write a rap song, nor do I think Scat Cat ever “spat” about any such thing. I have one more confession: I do not have much skill as a tracker despite my interest in the outdoors. Learning more about it is on my bucket list, but here in my 30s I am discovering that the bucket is probably too small to hold everything.

I spend a lot of time outside, so I’m not particularly squeamish about animal poo. Yet, I’ve never been interested enough to overcome the ick factor and study it. It’s still poop. With regard to tracks, all of my attempts to learn have been stymied because it seems I rarely find tracks complete enough to give me a clue much beyond “some kind of bird” or “a smallish mammal.” When I do, it’s usually because I just saw the animal that left the tracks in the first place. Beyond those first two basics, other elements of tracking have eluded me as well. “What kind of bird is this feather from?” Shrug “A brown one?” “What’s the difference between deer ‘rubbing’ and ‘scraping’?” “Wait, aren’t those synonyms?” These are exchanges I have had. As far as scent cues go, I know what skunk spray smells like – that’s something, right?

Self-deprecation aside, I realized when preparing this post that I know more about tracking than I think I do. If you’re a naturalist, an outdoorsman, or whatever other type of person would read this far, you probably do too. A portion of this is subconscious and/or automatic and so I’m not really aware I possess the knowledge unless I really think about it. This applies to a lot of tracking skills, but – bully for you, readers! – the clearest and most numerous examples seem to relate to poop.

As I mentioned before, I haven’t made any sort of robust study of feces. Somehow, though, I seem to have a surprisingly vast scatological catalog. I’ve had dogs all my life, so I’m quite familiar with dog shit. Wild canines produce somewhat similar excrement. I’ve never owned cats, but my friends and neighbors have and I’ve been known to cat sit; cat crap is also a known quantity. I frequently hike or bike on multi-use trails (and I have marched in parades) so I can identify a pile of horse turds without a second thought.  Growing up I rode a school bus past thirteen cow fields each way (I know – I counted) daily, so many times I’ve glimpsed the nightmare apple pie crust that is a cow patty. Rabbits are common both as pets and in the wild, making their relatively innocuous pellets familiar. The occasional annoyance of mouse droppings in a home, office, garage, or shed has bred some familiarity. Then, too, I was recently acquainted with the dung of Norway rats when a couple took up residence under my house. In my efforts to rid myself of these visitors, I learned to distinguish their leavings from roof rat logs. Deer scat is easily identified because it is abundant in this area and distinctive. I’ve been to a pond somewhere that is a place in the world, so I know the green menace that is goose poop. Similarly beach trips have acquainted me with the milky paste ejected from seagulls and car ownership with passerine bird mess. One of my dogs once luxuriated in the pungent leavings of a black bear, so add that to the list. I’ve seen Jurassic Park, so I know that triceratops shit comes in “one big pile.”*

I chose to focus this post on scat because I kept coming up with examples – monarch caterpillar frass, aquarium fish poo, earthworm poop, the list goes on. What I’m really talking about, though, are unconscious, automatic observational skills. We all have them – and if pressed we can consciously call upon them. Don’t worry – I’m not getting mystical or piping the debunked theory that we don’t use most of our brains – there’s just a ton of information in our brains we don’t realize is there. Learning to tap into that is as important to tracking as acquiring the knowledge in the first place. Some of it’s even primal evolutionary stuff. If something looks, sounds, or smells odd it probably is, but most of us are way out of practice at interpreting those signals.

Another example: I used to think I was so terrible at differentiating birdsong that learning was a lost cause. I’m still no expert. But, I can pick out quite a few songs and calls now and it gives me a baseline to narrow my focus to the interesting ones worth listening to. Sometimes that’s even as simple as hearing a call I can’t place but know I hear all the time. I still can’t distinguish very well, without a recording, among the various types of sparrows or finches, but I can reliably identify the shrill call of the Northern cardinal, the song of a robin, the “mep mep” of a white-breasted nuthatch, the coo of a mourning dove, and several others. I can call to mind perhaps fifteen or twenty without thinking too hard. As with the silly list of waste product data, I’ve come to realize that much of this I already knew and it was just a matter of thinking hard enough to access the information.

Yet another way this phenomenon hits me is in the form of knowledge I have but can’t put a name to or express with the correct terminology. This most often relates to field observations which I haven’t formally recorded. It might be a spider with specific markings that I’ve seen a hundred times but don’t have a name for. It could be knowing that some mushrooms has a bump on top of its cap before knowing that it’s called an “umbo,” or that it can  help identify the specimen. It’s been plants I walk by every day, certain that they look similar in some way I can’t quite pick out but unsure if they’re the same species, or even related at all. Itemizing this nameless knowledge can be a useful exercise for a naturalist; it can start one on the right track toward knowing what you don’t know.

So, where was I? Right. Poop. I lied. I did write some (terrible) rap lyrics.

Scat Cat spat about cat scat
‘cuz the scat his brat shat left a splat where it sat
so Scat Cat spat: “brat, you best clean that scat stat
You can’t leave that fat pat just to chill where it’s at

It don’t matter clean that splatter ‘fore I rip you to tatters
Got me mad as a hatter it’s gon’ be batter up
and your body will shatter, ain’t no more pitter-patter
I’m a be your bad luck like you walked under a ladder

Then rat-a-tat tat I’ll come at you with my gat
This ain’t no tit for no tat, I ain’t gonna live like no rat
So brat clean that scat ‘fore I lay you out flat
and if you gonna do that next time put down a mat, drat!

*There’s no way that this was an accurate depiction of triceratops poo. This even bugged me when I was a kid. How is the top of the pile higher than the animal’s anus? Why does it look like an anthill?