An American Robin hunts worms

 

An American Robin (Turdus migratorius) with a just-captured earthworm. 

Last week, Shauna and I traveled to the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area on a whirlwind trip. I was to give a talk (moths) to the Garden Club of Allegheny County on Thursday, so we headed over bright and early on Wednesday to photography waterfalls around the Ohiopyle area.

Upon arriving at our cabin late that day after a photo outing, there was an American Robin on the lawn. Whoop de doo, you might think - robins are one of the most abundant and widespread birds in North America. That's one of their allures, to me. I can go to the wildest northern Michigan forest, midwestern prairie remnants, local parks, urban cityscapes, my back yard, and there they are. The big thrushes are nothing if not adaptable.

But robins are much more than adaptable. The robust caroling song is beautiful and a near ever-present sound of nature. They're showy, too - so much so, that if robins were rare, everyone would go ape over them. Their stout nests are remarkable architectural achievements: an adobe cup that dries to the hardness of a China bowl, and its neatly reinforced with grasses and other vegetation. And the color of the eggs spawned the name of a color: robin's-egg blue.

Anyway, as we took a moment to watch the robin, it suddenly lunged and caught a worm. Cool! Said I, then noted that photographing an American Robin in the act of snagging a worm was still on my bucket list. As there were several robins hunting the lawns, Shauna suggested that I go try and check that item off the list, so I did.

A male American Robin looks and listens for invertebrate prey in the grass. When one freezes, lowers it head and cocks it slightly, action is about to ensue. The robin is using its sensitive ears to listen for worms and other prey, as well as watching with keen eyes.

Bingo! The robin pounces! It has its head way down in the grasses and is about to come up with a favored prey item. I'm not sure the bird could even see the victim and may have divined its location entirely by ear.

PHOTO NOTES: I made all of these images with my Canon R5 and 400 DO II lens. It was coupled to the Canon 1.4xII extender, giving me 560mm of reach. That was plenty. Robins are fairly tame to begin with, and after a while this bird became used to me, and I was typically within 30-30 feet of it. I was shooting wide-open at f/5.6 (without the extender, the lens would be an f/4 of course). As robins in the midst of attacking prey can move with astonishing speed, I used a shutter speed of 1/2500. And, as almost always is best with animals, I was at or near ground level for these shots, to be on my subject's level. And the camera was on electronic shutter mode at 20 frames a second, to capture all of the action.

Unlike the worm in the first image, this one is a monster "nightcrawler". Here, the robin has just seized it and is working to tug the worm from the burrow. While such a task is fast and easy with a tiny worm, it is tougher when a big worm is involved. When under attack, the worm can bunch the powerful muscles that form rings down its body and plug itself into the burrow. Furthermore, worms are beset with rows of external setae - short stiff hairs - that can also help in holding it in place.

The robin tugs with all of its might. The bird is actually off of the ground and leaping/pulling backward. There were a few near extractions like this, and the worm would manage to tug itself further back into the hole. Then the robin would yank harder and in fairly short order it had won the battle.

The worm separates from the ground with great force, as if someone had let go of the other end of a Slinky. Its body coils sinuously as the pressure is instantly released, and the robin had it down the hatch shortly thereafter.

It should be noted that all of the large earthworms in this part of the world, insofar as I know, are night native. They are native to Europe and Asia and were brought over by accident in shipping material such as soils associated with nursery plants. It didn't take long for them to spread far and wide and increase enormously in abundance.

It didn't take long for the clever and adaptable American Robin to learn about worms and make them a large part of its diet.

Fox Sparrows in the yard, and an upcoming sparrow program

 

A handsome rusty-red Fox Sparrow (Passerella iliaca) in the author's Worthington (Ohio) yard on April 4 of last year.

I am fortunate to get Fox Sparrows in the yard nearly every year, but until this winter they have always been migrants and short-term visitors.

Not this year. Two Fox Sparrows have been here since last October, and I see them daily - at least when I'm here to see them - up until the present. In recent weeks, one of them has begun singing and what a song it is. A loud slurry whistled aria, as if the bird had been drinking. But is still largely holding together the notes that comprise its beautiful melody. I walked out at dawn to feed everyone the other morning, and it was like stepping into the boreal forest. The Fox Sparrow was singing, as was a White-throated Sparrow, and a Dark-eyed Junco. At least a dozen of each of the latter two species have also been around all winter.

On March 29, I am giving a photo-rich talk about the Sparrows of Ohio at the Creating Living Landscapes Conference, sponsored by the Midwest Native Plant Society. It's at the Bergamo Center in Dayton, and the event features a fine slate of speakers on a diversity of topics. For full details and registration info, GO HERE. We would love to see you there!

Greater White-fronted Goose

 

As always, click the image to enlarge

Eleven Greater White-fronted Geese (Anser albifrons), along with a Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) forage on a grassy bank of a small lake. About 60 other "speckle-bellies", in hunter slang, where present, along with several hundred Canada Geese, four Ross's Geese (Anser rossii), and two Cackling Geese (Branta hutchinsii).

On February 23, Shauna and I ran down to a nearby pond in southwestern Franklin County (Ohio) to marvel over a flock of about 70 "Speckle-bellies". She had never seen this western species of goose, which was formerly a rare migrant in Ohio, but is becoming much more common. North American populations of this tundra breeder are increasing at an estimated 5% annually, and there are about 5 million Speckle-bellies globally.

A Greater White-fronted Goose drops to the ice for a nap, along with four of its compadres. The air temperature was quite brisk, in the low 20's F. Ice and cold are nothing to the hardy speckle-bellies and these are spring migrants, pushing north on the edge of ice-out.

Map courtesy of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Birds of the World monographs. I am a longtime subscriber, and if you are a student of birds, you should be, too.

Greater White-fronted Geese breed in Arctic regions over much of the globe, and the orange areas represent the breeding range. The speckle-bellies in my images have a long way to go. While there is no way to know exactly where they're headed - Alaska? northern Hudson Bay?, Nunavut? - one thing is clear: they still have a long haul ahead. It is about 1,500 miles to the nearest local that they might nest.

Birds that breed in such northerly latitudes are no strangers to frosty temperatures and icy conditions.

A handsome bird indeed, a Greater White-fronted Goose holds up a foot, enabling us to admire its orange legs. They match its bill quite nicely. We also see why the "speckle-belly" nickname arose. The formal name Greater White-fronted Goose stems from the bold ivory ring around the base of the bill. As the name implies, there is a Lesser White-fronted Goose (Anser erythropus).  It is a Eurasian species of more limited and scattered distribution, and at the risk of stepping into the subjective waters of beauty and what constitutes it, an even showier bird than the Greater White-fronted Goose. It breeds as far east as eastern Siberia - you know, the land that Sarah Palin could see from her house - but there are only two North American records: Attu, Alaska in the Aleutian chain in 2004, and 2013 on St. Paul Island, Alaska, in the Bering Sea (three years after I was there, darn it).

As noted in the first paragraph, Greater White-fronted Geese have increased greatly, both as migrants through Ohio, and in the overall range. A number of factors might account for this, including wetland restoration and increased foraging habitat on wintering grounds, better protection and stronger game laws, and the adaptability of certain large goose species, of which this is one.

Lake Erie waterfowl

 

The iconic Marblehead Lighthouse, near the eastern end of the Marblehead Peninsula. It is one of the most visited spots on Lake Erie.

On February 18, I traveled to Gates Mills, near Cleveland, to speak to the Cleveland Garden Club. This wonderful group has been in existence for 112 years! My subject was moths/conservation gardening. The temperatures were hardly mothy, though, but we were indoors so who cares.

But after that morning talk, I headed an hour and a half west, to the spot in the image above. A very rare (for Ohio) Barrow's Goldeneye (Bucephala islandica) had been present, and it was off the lighthouse up until about an hour before I arrived. It never reappeared during my time, but I am not a big lister/chaser anymore and have seen hundreds if not thousands of Barrow's Goldeneyes elsewhere, both on the east coast, and Alaska. Seeing it in Ohio would have been nice, but c'est la vie.

As always, click the image to enlarge

I was at least as interested - probably more so - in seeing the scads of waterfowl of at least ten species that had congregated on this part of the lake. It was a bit frosty, as the temps hovered around 12 F, and it was a gusty day with wind chills below zero. After nearly four hours of standing along the shore, I felt a little icy.

Enduring the cold was more than worth it. Perhaps 5,000 ducks were in the general area. In this group, most of the birds are Canvasbacks (Aythya valisineria), but Bufflehead (Bucephala albeola), Common Goldeneye (Bucephala clangula), Redhead (Aythya americana), Greater Scaup (Aythya marila) and Lesser Scaup (A. affinis) can be seen.

A quintet of drake Redheads wings past, with a hen amongst them and scads of fowl in the background. The toughness of these birds is incredible. Freezing air, strong winds, and water right at the edge of icing up doesn't faze them. In fact, the scores of common goldeneye drakes were busily courting the hens. This behavior is a true harbinger of spring, and if you've not seen goldeneye courting, it is a treat. The amorous drake throws his head back till it touches his tail, while emitting a loud squeaky buzz. Sometimes he'll kick his bright orange feet/legs from the water. There might be a half-dozen guys doing their aquatic break dancing for one hen, the latter of which seems to studiously ignore them (but she's not).

It was interesting to watch the group dynamics. At times, big flocks of ducks would fly/paddle across the water, barely getting airborne, and move a few hundred yards or so. I assume they were trying to stay over schools of fish such as Emerald Shiners (Notropis atherinoides).

A drake Greater Scaup flies over a duck-filled section of Lake Erie. A hen of the same species floats just to his right, and a drake Canvasback dozes in the rear. In the upper lefthand corner is a hen Common Goldeneye. Many Greater and Lesser Scaup were present, and it was a great opportunity to observe their differences. At first, the two scaup are confusingly similar. In flight, the extent of white on the wings is a good field mark, illustrated by this drake in flight. The white wing stripe extends well out into the primary flight feathers, while on the Lesser Scaup the white stripe is limited to the secondary flight feathers - the wing stripe is much shorter and less conspicuous.

The much hardier and more northerly breeding Greater Scaup is in general much scarcer in Ohio, with large numbers only occurring on Lake Erie in winter. During migration, especially in spring, Lesser Scaup can be abundant, and over 100,000 can accumulate on Maumee Bay near Toledo.

It won't be long, and these birds will have pushed on north and west. This was the first truly cold winter that we've had in a few years, and winter waterfowling on Lake Erie was great.

A snowy day

Today was a superbly showy (or snowy) day. About 3-4 inches of sticky snow fell on central Ohio, blanketing everything with a white coat. Shauna and I visited Highbanks Metro Park, just north of Columbus (Ohio), and hiked three miles through the wintry landscape. Photo ops were everywhere, but it was just nice to be out in a real winter, like they should be.

Your narrator leans against some sort of large plant along one of the many miles of trails at Highbanks. Thanks to Shauna for the photo.

The last few winters have been mild, with very little snow and not much in the way of truly cold temperatures. For the next week, lows will be in the mid to low teens (tomorrow night's low is supposed to be 6 F!), and highs from the mid-teens to mid 20's. This winter reverted back to normal winters of not so long ago. I hope this trend returns for future winters.

Coyotes rescued from deplorable captive environment

 

A coyote glances over her shoulder. This animal was rescued from brutal conditions at a fur farm.

This was one of 128 coyotes rescued from an Ashtabula County, Ohio fur farm in late January. Also found at this animal hellscape, called the Grand River Fur Exchange, were 124 red foxes, 88 skunks, 52 "wolves" (wolf hybrids) and lesser numbers of several other species. They were being mined for various musks and urines (used in hunting, as repellents in gardens, and probably other purposes), for furs, and for sales to captive breeders. The coyotes and many others were in cages hardly big enough to turn around in, and often not enough room to stand upright. Numerous dead animals were found during the raid, including a gray fox (listed as a Species of Concern by the Ohio Division of Wildlife. Gray fox has declined significantly in recent decades). This was animal cruelty in the extreme. No animal deserves such treatment, and similar operations need ferreted out and shut down. I have heard that many others exist within Ohio.

Fortunately, there are people like Gwen Hoogendoorn, who organized the rescue mission on the heels of law enforcement raiding and shutting down this monstrous operation. She also (with permits, of course) took four of the coyotes to much more capacious housing. I was able to visit these four coyotes the other day and admire the tough survivors. Thanks Gwen and everyone else involved in this rescue operation. There were numerous partners, and I don't know who they all are. Or I'd list them all. But the operation was originally spurred by the Humane Society of the United States, who were tipped to the conditions at the operation. Gwen was tapped for her leadership due to her logistical and organizational abilities, and widespread contacts within the wildlife rehabilitation community. The Ohio Wildlife Center played a role, as did Nature's Nursery and many other individuals and organizations.

Bobcat Talk: Next Saturday at Cedar Bog

 

A Bobcat (Felis rufus) pointedly ignores the photographer. I made this image last October, in the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge in Georgia. After a bit, the cat stalked off in the insouciant manner that only a cat can muster.

Shauna Weyrauch, who teaches at Ohio State University's Newark Campus and does research involving Bobcat den sites and is an authority on Ohio's only remaining wild cat (Lynx and Mountain Lion once occurred), will speak on these fascinating felines next Saturday, February 8 at 10 am in the visitor's center at Cedar Bog. Admission is free and all are welcome.

Shauna, along with wildlife photographer Dutch Gordon, recently published a book entitled The Boy and the Bobcat. It's geared towards kids, and I doubt the kid exists who wouldn't be interested in Bobcats. Shauna will have books on hand ($20), and her talk will be of interest to the younger set. Please feel free to bring any kids you have or know.

After the talk, Shauna, myself, and Cedar Bog volunteers will lead a foray around the boardwalk. Cedar Bog is one of Ohio's most remarkable natural resources and is chockful of rare species. Bobcats have been documented there, and though our odds of connecting with one are slim to none, we will see oodles of other interesting stuff. Skunk-cabbage (Symplocarpos foetidus) abounds, and I won't be surprised if some plants are already in flower. Located just south of Urbana, Cedar Bog is easily accessible from Columbus and anywhere else in central Ohio.

Hope to see you there!