Great Blue Heron

Field Note: A Great Blue Heron on Thin Ice! … and Its Neighbors – a Drama in Three Acts

/ Cam Mannino / 4 Comments

It often happens that shortly after I publish a blog about a particular park, something interesting pops up there that I wish I could have included.

Text by Cam Mannino

So to solve that issue, Dr. Ben VanderWeide, Oakland Township’s Stewardship Manager and I decided that it might be fun to slip in a short piece, a “field note,” now and then about these intriguing and/or surprising discoveries. And wouldn’t you know, one cropped up last week!

A Young Blue Heron Discovers a New Challenge: Ice!

Readers may remember that in the recent Bear Creek Nature Park blog, my photographer friend Paul Birtwhistle introduced us to a voracious juvenile Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) who for weeks spent its mornings snapping up green frogs and fish from the drought-depleted Center Pond at Bear Creek.

Photographer Paul Birtwhistle and Stanley the Wonderdog

Well, after one frigid night last week, the pond froze with a thin sheet of ice. And of course, the Heron returned in the morning to continue its feast. But to its apparent dismay, the water had changed drastically since the day before. The heron stepped out cautiously on this oddly slick surface and looked about. In the short video below, you’ll hear that Paul was amazed at what he was filming. And the young Heron was just as surprised at finding the pond surface inaccessible after weeks of dipping into it to find a rich trove of food. [Note: Vimeo, which formats our videos, attributes everything on Ben’s Vimeo account to Ben. But this week, all of the photos and videos were generously shared with us by Paul Birtwhistle.]

“What’s this? Tap, tap, tap. The water is hard?!!! What’s this? Video by Paul Birtwhistle

This youngster didn’t give up easily! It stared at the surface repeatedly. Paul guessed that he was seeing movement under the thin ice.

I see something down there, but why is my vision so fuzzy? And how do I deal with the slick, hard barrier between me and breakfast? Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

I wonder if perhaps the juvenile thought something was wrong with its eyesight, as it tried to bend down and get closer to the ice. Or perhaps it still thought it could snag its prey if it crouched down a bit…

Hmmm…maybe I just need to get a little bit closer. That usually works. No? Drat! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

The heron tread verrrry cautiously on the thin, icy surface but – Yikes! Suddenly its feet slipped from under it and up went those dramatic wings to help it find its balance.

Whoops! Wings up! What’s the deal with this weird pond? Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

Trying to keep its hopes up, the bird spent about a half hour stepping carefully on the slippery surface and peering down at the ice-blurred surface of the pond. The youngster appears to warm one foot by bringing it to its feathers – or maybe it’s simply scratching an itch. In any case, this young bird looks pretty frustrated at this puzzling new experience.

I just don’t get it! How annoying! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

After more than a half hour of exploration, the young heron took flight. Let’s hope it found its way to deeper water and the society of older herons who would show this young ‘un how to fish from the icy edge of open water.

OK! I’m outta here! There must be normal water around here somewhere! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

Paul was surprised and delighted to see a heron on ice! And so was I when I received his photos! We thought Great Blue Herons would already have migrated. But when I contacted experienced naturalist and bird bander, Allen Chartier, he explained that, in his experience, though many migrate further, some herons just keep moving south to find open water. He sees them where warm water thaws the ice near power plants, for example. He believes most of them depart by January when even large bodies of water freeze over. Cornell University’s subscription website, Birds of the World, indicates that those mighty wings carry many of them as far south as the Caribbean. So bon voyage to our young puzzled friend. Hope you found a belly-full of food before nightfall!

Meanwhile, Nearby, More Experienced Neighbors Also Coped with the Icy Pond

Muskrats (Ondatra zibethicus) have created a “push-up” or lodge on the Center Pond this year, probably because Bear Creek marsh, where they more often spend the winter, has less open water than usual. Muskrats spend the winter mostly under water. Their metabolism drops and they efficiently utilize oxygen stored in their muscles. They slowly swim about, foraging for aquatic plants, though their diet can also include frogs, snails, small fish, occasionally even small turtles – if any remained after our hungry young heron departed! Since muskrats are mammals, however, they need to come up for air. Their push-ups have a platform inside where they can enter from underwater and then eat and rest comfortably in the air. Nice arrangement, eh?

The first time Paul noticed a muskrat, it was near the heron, gnawing its way through the thin ice to keep its channels open. In the photo below, note the ice being pushed up onto the muskrat’s muzzle as it acts like an icebreaker. Its long fur helps keep it warm and it can close its ears when under water. But as you’ll hear Paul say in the video, “It looks ever so cold!”

A muskrat acting as ice-breaker. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

The next morning two muskrats fed at the pond. The first one in the short video below seems to be eating frozen plant material pulled up from the shallow water. Watch ’til the end of the video to see the second muskrat emerge from the push-up, gnaw on some ice and then decide to make a beeline underwater toward the first one – probably its mate.

Two muskrats on an icy morning at Bear Creek’s Center Pond. Video by Paul Birtwhistle

It turns out that this affectionate pair is sharing its home with 3-4 other muskrats that Paul saw a few days later. They may be a family, though muskrats are known to hole up with unrelated muskrats in the winter. I suppose that more muskrats inside means more warmth. But the shallow water and the depleted amount of prey may turn out to be a challenge to these animals this winter. Drought like we’ve had lately can be a hazard to semi-aquatic animals. It’s much easier for predators like foxes and coyotes to reach the muskrats if the shallow water freezes solid.

The muskrat pair having a bit of a cuddle to keep themselves warm.
The inside of their push-up made from dead plant material can be both a shelter and a source of food if necessary.

Amazingly enough, a savvy potential predator did indeed show up on Paul’s next visit – an American mink (Neogale vison)! I’ve been hiking Bear Creek Nature Park for many years and never seen one there. But late one morning, this powerful, beautiful animal appeared on the north bank of the pond right behind the muskrats’ push up. Hmmm…. Various sources report that though minks eat several different small mammals, their favorite food is, you guessed it, muskrat! Well, winter’s a challenging time and the mink may have a mate to feed as well since minks breed during the winter. Everyone has to eat, right? Look at the magnificent specimen Paul saw! Its size, white chin patch and small white chest spot are good field marks for this impressive creature.

An American Mink looks with great interest at the push-up of a group of muskrats, a possible tasty treat for the mink! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

What a drama played out at the Center Pond this November! Will the young heron learn quickly how to find food on an icy morning? Will the muskrats find enough prey in the shallow water after the heron’s weeks of feeding? Will they successfully fend off the hungry mink or will this elegant, potentially lethal predator find a meal for itself at the pond? We’ll probably never know the conclusion to this series of events. But thanks to Paul, you and I had front row seats for this adventure in three acts, each featuring a creature coping with the vicissitudes of the season.

Autumn at Bear Creek Nature Park: A Rich Harvest for the Multitudes

/ Cam Mannino / 1 Comment
The eastern end of the Center Pond at Bear Creek after a summer drought

The Center Pond at Bear Creek Nature Park was a hub of avian activity during early fall. After a very dry summer, the water level fell significantly, exposing the muddy bottom in some areas and bringing underwater prey closer to the surface. And the birds came! Summer visitors who raised young here and birds migrating south clearly saw the remaining open water and muddy edges as an oasis. After the vernal pools dried up and even Bear Creek marsh filled with plants in the dry summer heat, the Center Pond provided an ideal place to find food!

During the dry summer heat, Bear Creek Marsh’s open water disappeared as the moist center filled with cattails and flowering plants.

I, sadly, wasn’t able to use my long lens much for birds in the last few weeks after a minor fiasco with my back – but never fear!

Text by and some photos by Cam Mannino

Two of my brilliant photographer friends, Bob Bonin and Paul Birtwhistle, generously filled my inbox with glorious shots of all kinds of birds they saw there! Through their eyes, you and I can witness what Bear Creek had to offer our avian friends in early fall. And I’ll add in a few extras from my October trips through Bear Creek’s fields and its oak-hickory forest. So let’s head out together on another virtual hike, this time with two other nature-loving photographers.

Off Toward the Slopes of the Western Meadow

The sloping Western Meadow in late October.

The gardens near the parking lot on Snell Road are shedding their seed now. They currently look a bit chaotic, but all those seed heads will be a nourishing boon to birds this winter. But one hardy species, Cut-leaf Coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata), contributed its bright yellow rays to the fall colors until mid-October. What a heartening native addition to a late-summer/fall garden!

Hardy native Cut-leaf Coneflowers shine brightly in the garden nearest the Snell parking lot despite falling temperatures.

Paul Birtwhistle and I both stopped by the Playground Pond this fall. In September, Paul came across a female Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) banging away on one of the many snags (standing dead trees) in the pond. (Females have a black “mustache”; males have a red one.) At this time of year, she was probably seeking out wood-boring beetle larvae, though in general, carpenter ants are her preference.

A female Pileated Woodpecker searched for beetle larvae and other goodies on a dead snag in the Playground Pond. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

When I arrived at the Playground Pond in October with the Wednesday morning birding group, a gang of juvenile Cedar Waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum) were socializing in a dead tree. The juveniles are much less colorful than their parents – mostly gray instead of cedar brown and lemon yellow – but even at a distance, we could see the bright yellow tips on their tails and their developing black masks. (Click on photos to enlarge.)

Part of a sociable flock of young Cedar Waxwings warming in the sun on a cold morning at the Playground Pond.
The black mask and yellow bar at the tip of its tail identified this juvenile Cedar Waxwing at Stony Creek Ravine Park in 2020.

In September, Paul ventured further west to the steeply sloping path of the western meadow where tiny migrators foraged at the edge of the woods. And what a group of golden beauties! The Magnolia Warbler (Setophaga magnolia) nests in conifers at the tip of Michigan’s “mitten,” the Upper Peninsula or in Canada. This female or immature male with its complete white eye ring, vivid yellow breast and gray head stopped by Bear Creek to rest and feed on its way to bask in Caribbean sun for the winter.

A female or immature male Magnolia Warbler paused momentarily while busily foraging for insects at the edge of the Western Meadow. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

Another migrator, the Nashville Warbler (Leiothlypis ruficapilla), also breeds in “up north” Michigan and in Canada. It drops by in fall and spring when it’s migrating to and from its wintering grounds in Mexico. That’s quite a trip twice a year! Paul caught it pausing as it too sought out Bear Creek’s rich supply of insects for its long journey.

The Nashville Warbler stopped by on the western slopes of Bear Creek Nature Park. For field marks, look for its gray head with a white eye ring, and all that bright yellow below. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

The other little bird Paul glimpsed in the west of the park was an immature male Common Yellow-throat (Geothlypis trichas). (Adult males have a white-banded black mask, and in immature males this mask is very faint; females have a warm brown head, yellow undersides, and olive back.) This young male might have hatched from an egg right at Bear Creek Nature Park since Paul and I repeatedly saw Yellowthroats or heard their “witchedy, witchedy” call near the marsh this summer. Or perhaps this one arrived from further north. In either case, he too stocked up on insects here before winging off to the southeast toward Florida or the Caribbean.

This immature male Common Yellowthroat may have fledged at Bear Creek this summer, or he might be traveling south from farther north. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

Strolling Along the Walnut Lane

The Walnut Lane in late October.

The Walnut Lane which runs between two meadows serves as a favorite perusing perch for birds. When Paul arrived there on October 1, he spotted migrating Palm Warblers (Setophaga palmarum) gazing out among the golden leaves along the trail. After raising young in the Upper Peninsula or even Canada’s boreal forests, these striking birds stop by each fall on their way to Florida or the Caribbean to partake of our parks’ bounty.

A Palm Warbler on the Walnut Lane. Its rusty brown cap, light “eyebrow” line and yellowish breast are good field marks for this little migrator who’s just passing through. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

The same day, down near north end of the Lane, Paul spotted a Chinese Praying Mantis (Tenodera sinensis). We have two species of non-native Mantises in Michigan. This larger one, at 3-5 inches, is a highly successful predator also on the hunt for insects. Its orange back with green edges is distinctive, though sometimes Chinese Mantises are solid green like the smaller species, the European Mantis (Mantis religiosa), which is no more than 3 inches long. These two may have out-competed the only native mantis in our country, the Carolina mantis (Stagmomantis carolina) which now exists only in the southeast. This one clearly focused on Paul. Maybe she was flirting?

This Chinese Praying Mantis looks seductive, doesn’t she? But she’s probably just focusing her bilateral vision so she can escape Paul if necessary. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

In the late summer and fall, Eastern Bluebirds (Sialia sialis) frequently perch on the Walnut Lane. I saw a pensive female there on October 2. On October 5, Paul and I both saw a pair exploring the possibilities of a snag for insects now or perhaps next year’s cavity nest. In fact, the Lane area was full of their fluttering that day! The nesting boxes placed by the stewardship crew and tended by volunteers have added a lot of bluebirds to Bear Creek – and other parks with boxes – so keep an eye out for them!

This female Bluebird seemed to be in deep thought, though I imagine she was really concentrating on her next meal!
A Bluebird couple exploring a snag against a background of vivid fall color! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

A Ruby-Crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) also flitted about within the branches along the Lane. Paul caught this tiny bird between dashes from limb to limb (left below), while I just caught the blur of another one’s flight during the bird walk.

A Ruby-crowned Kinglet sizing up the insect possibilities along the Walnut Lane. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
A Ruby-crowned Kinglet in the blur of its flight

The Center Pond Feeding the Multitudes – and a Rare Visitor

Western end of the Center Pond with mud flats forming after the summer drought.

Both of my photographer friends hung out at the Center Pond, a hub of activity in the fall at Bear Creek Nature Park. On each of his visits, Paul Birtwhistle snapped his photos quickly to catch in action two large, very successful foragers. In early September, he came upon a very excited Green Heron (Butorides virescens) with a crest that literally stood on end like a “punk” hairstyle. Maybe just the thought of all those “easy pickings” in the shallow water had a huge effect on this skillful fisher! Here’s a brief slideshow of Paul’s shots of its hunting techniques.

  • Crest held high, this adult Green Heron looks pretty pleased at its prospects for food at the Center Pond. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • Ah, the perfect perch! What a fanatical look, eh? Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • With stealth and cautious, slow movements, it spots its prey and concentrates. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • Up comes some sort of prey. Is that a tadpole tail? Success, even if it’s a relatively small snack. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • Ah, spotting what appears to be another likely meal, it takes off, literally running across the duckweed and water meal that covers the pond. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • Down goes the bill again! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • Alas, it appears the prey, if there was any, escaped, and our Green Heron is left with a bill full of aquatic plant. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.
  • Ah well, off it goes, back to the pond edge to see what the shallows might offer. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

Paul watched a Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) feed day after day at the Center Pond. The first time, on October 9, he witnessed one snagging two different prey. Its first prize was a little Largemouth Bass (Micropterus salmoides)! Some flying bird must have dropped Bass eggs into the pond earlier in the summer since this pond is spring-fed. Each prey caught, Paul reports, was dipped in the water and then shaken vigorously. Cornell University’s website explains that this process may quickly break the spine before the heron swallows it whole. Gulp!

Its second catch was a small Green Frog (Rana clamitans). The heron came back the next day for another frog. In fact, Paul’s seen a heron fishing repeatedly for two weeks! Evidently, the shallower water after the summer drought made fishing much more profitable for the water birds this year! The pond may have fewer frogs next summer but we’re sending well-fed herons south during the migration. Here’s a small sampling of Paul’s amazing photos of this impressive bird, with its 6 to 7 foot wingspan and its skillful fishing.

  • The Great Blue Heron pulls a small Largemouth Bass from the Center Pond. It found a fish I never knew was in that pond! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle
  • Herons shake and dip their prey to break the spine quickly before swallowing them whole, according to Cornell University’s ornithology website. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle
  • The Heron’s been busy snagging frogs as well as fish before its migration. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle
  • Two Wood Ducks swim calmly by as the Great Blue Heron preens. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle
  • The Great Blue Heron balancing at the tip of a tree near the Center Pond. It looks like it’s standing on tiptoe but Paul says the landing was successful. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle
  • A view of the amazing wings of the Great Blue Heron on takeoff. The heron was still foraging at the pond on October 22. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

The Wood Ducks (Aix sponsa) have also been bottoms-up feeding at the Center Pond during October. Paul got a wonderful shot of a pair surveying the pond from the edge. They’re probably here for a variety of aquatic plants, including the bright green Duckweed (aptly named!) (Lemna minor) and Common Water Meal (Wolffia columbiana) that they scoop up with their bills when they’re cruising along.

A Wood Duck couple standing amidst a nice patch of Duckweed and Water Meal, some of their favorite aquatic plants. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

Male Mallards (Anas platyrhynchos) molt into eclipse plumage in later summer/early fall that makes them look more like the females. Later in the fall, they molt again into their breeding colors in order to attract a mate for the next season. I think this male, with its head bejeweled with water droplets, has excellent mating prospects! What a glamor shot! Thanks, Paul!

A male Mallard in his fresh breeding plumage. What a sight for a female Mallard’s eyes! Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.

Of course, not all the foraging was going on in the water at the Center Pond. An unusual migrator appeared at the Wednesday bird walk. A Rusty Blackbird (Euphagus carolinus) settled down on the muddy shoals exposed by the drought and spent several hours flipping over leaves to see what insects, seeds or fallen fruit might be hiding there. My other patient photographer buddy, Bob Bonin, stayed at the pond for hours and caught his beautiful shot (below left). Rusty Blackbirds only pass through during fall and spring migration and their numbers are rapidly declining. I last saw them in 2015 when a small flock in their breeding colors (below right) landed in a wetland near the Center Pond. Researchers think their decline is caused by the usual suspects – agriculture, logging, development, soil contamination. So I’m glad our parks provided a rich source of sustenance for even this single Rusty in its fall plumage.

The brown tips of the Rusty Blackbird’s feathers wear off during the winter. The yellow eyes are a year ’round field mark.
This female back in 2015 wore her darker spring plumage. The spring males are completely black.

Bob’s patience paid off again. In those extra hours, he also tracked the quick, short flights of a variety of small migrating birds foraging at the Center Pond. Yellow-rumped Warblers (Setophaga coronata) eat a wide variety of foods during migration – insects when they can find them, seeds, berries of all kinds, including poison ivy berries! The field mark to look for, winter or spring, is the bright yellow patch between the wings on the top of its rump, though their plumage is much more dramatic in the spring, like most birds.

A Yellow-rumped Warbler with yellow showing beneath her wings. Photo by Bob Bonin
The Yellow-Rumped Warbler with the yellow patch on top of its rump. Photo by Bob Bonin

White-throated Sparrows (Zonotrichia albicollis) can be seen under my feeder during the fall and winter – maybe yours too? These hardy sparrows flooded into Bear Creek Nature Park early in October after breeding farther north. Their striped heads can sometimes be confused with the White-crowned Sparrow, but the White Throats have that nifty white patch under the beak and bright yellow spots (called “lores”) just above their eyes. Check out the pattern differences when you see a “little brown bird” pecking in the grass! It’s not “just a sparrow!” Try thinking “Which sparrow is it?” Thanks to Bob for this great identification shot!

A brush pile or tall vegetation close to your feeder lets the White-throated Sparrow feel safe enough to eat there as it pops in and out of cover during the winter. Photo by Bob Bonin.

Down on the dock, the birding group saw an Eastern Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe) doing what flycatchers do best – quickly sallying out over water to snitch insects from the air. These grayish-brown songbirds sing a steeply descending “Pheeee-buzz” song in the summer and are easily identified by an almost continuous pumping or twitching of their tails when perched.

Eastern Phoebes sing, nest and raise young here in the summer but travel to the southern US for the winter since their main food source is insects.

A Short Walk Through Alice’s Woods, aka the Oak-Hickory Forest

Let’s wind up our virtual hike with a quick walk through the oak-hickory forest, which is now named “Alice’s Woods,” in honor of the incredible Alice Tomboulian who inspired, helped found and served Oakland Township Parks for so many years. Alice was an intrepid lover of the natural world who understood the importance of both preservation and the urgent requirements of restoring that land with native species. She was an inspiration to so many, including me, and is greatly missed.

The quiet of a forest always soothes me, and that’s especially true in autumn light. Fewer birds, other than woodpeckers, regularly appear for me in the woods. I come across Titmice, a summer Wood-Pewee, once a Sharp-shinned Hawk, the occasional migrating warbler, the Brown Creeper and two or three times a Great Horned Owl, among others. But this October, I felt surrounded only by what I call “leaf talk.” The spinning descent of dry leaves accompanied the tree shadows slipping across my husband’s shoulders in the dappled light. In the woods, we tried to notice the small forest details that tend to show themselves when we aren’t peering up into the canopy for birds.

First, we came across an array of fallen logs, each one heavily filigreed with Turkey-tail Mushrooms (Trametes versicolor). These polypore mushrooms help break down dead wood into sugars and carbon dioxide by loosening the bonds of lignin that made the wood and bark rigid. In other words, these fungi are gradual wood recyclers – and they’re beautiful while doing it!

  • A tower of Turkey-tail mushrooms on a fallen limb. The green is a light coating of algae, often seen on these fungi.
  • A roundish bouquet of Turkey-tails on the lower edge of a fallen tree.
  • The entire pile of logs was being processed by Turkey-tail mushrooms.

The concentric geometry of a web spun by an Orb-weaver Spider (genus Araneus) caught our eye in a spot of fall sunlight. The spider may have expired on a chilly night, but she left behind evidence of her skill. According to Dr. Gary Parsons at Michigan State University’s Bug House, the mating process in this genus can be a bit fraught. “Males …usually need to perform some kind of species-specific signal (usually by plucking the web in a specific pattern) as they approach the female to let them know they are not prey and wish to mate. If the female is overly hungry or not ready to mate, she might turn on the male and eat him if he gets too close. If she is ready to mate, she probably will leave him alone during the act, after which the male beats a hasty retreat.” Don’t mess with an unwilling female Orb-weaver!

The vertical line in the Orb-weaver’s web is called a “trash-line.” It serves as a storage place for insects she’s caught and wrapped to be consumed later or a disposal site for ones she’s already sucked dry!

Emerging from the woods to head back to the car, we were greeted by the charmingly bug-eyed Spotted Spreadwing damselfly (Lestes congener). This little creature survives longer than most other damselflies, into October and even November. Its eggs overwinter and can tolerate temperatures as low as -17 degrees, according to my cherished guide, Damselflies of Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan by Robert Dubois and Mike Reese. So glad this hardy little insect posed for me.

Usually the last of the damselflies each autumn – the Spotted Spreadwing with its half-blue bug eyes – stared up at us from a dry grass stem.

Red-legged Grasshoppers (Melanoplus femurrubrum) accompanied us along every path, springing away under our feet. In our colder latitudes, these grasshoppers are smaller and have to mature more quickly since this species only reproduces once in a season. Females will lay eggs in the soil to overwinter. The nymphs will dig their way out next spring and molt 5-7 times before being ready to mate.

The Red-legged Grasshopper’s back legs are not only a lovely color, but have quite a fancy design.

I hope you’ve noticed the sweet, buzzing song of crickets – and probably some katydids and grasshoppers too – this time of year. My sharp-eyed husband spotted one of the tiny Ground Crickets (family Trigonidiidae) whose males sing so wonderfully this time of year just by pulling the scraper-like edge of one forewing against the other. Dr. Parsons would have needed to have this tiny (maybe 3/4 inch?) creature in hand to identify it among the seven species in three genera in Michigan. He did tell me that they can survive quite cold temperatures down in the grass as long as they don’t freeze. So when the weather warms back up in the fall, the males “sing” again, hoping to mate before winter sets in.

In the autumn, at least hundreds, maybe thousands, of male Ground Crickets “sing” by scraping one wing against the other, hoping to attract a female in the meadows of Bear Creek Nature Park before a hard freeze comes.

Ensuring Autumn’s Richness Continues to Feed the Future

I like to think of autumn as a time of rich harvest in our parks. Yes, it’s true that the leaves are falling and flowers and grasses are withering – but that means seeds can feed hungry migrators before they fly further south on a north wind under the stars. Those dry seed heads in our parks, or left for the winter (we hope) in your drying garden, can nourish our avian neighbors who tough out the winter with us. Insects have left behind chrysalises, cocoons, and galls, where their young will gradually transform next spring into dancing butterflies, fluttering moths in a summer night, and the millions of caterpillars and adult insects needed to feed next summer’s frogs, flycatchers, soaring swallows and thousands of baby birds. It means seeds and nuts will rest on or in the cooling earth, ready to crack open and thrust out new life when the soil warms again. While we humans sip our sweet cider and bite into crisp apples, nature is serving up food for the multitudes and sowing new life in its endless cycle of abundance.

If we continue to preserve natural areas and restore them to the health that nature designed through millennia, we can hope that endless fruitful autumns stretch ahead on our planet home. Here in Oakland Township, we’re doing our best to do just that in our parks. It isn’t enough to simply preserve open land, as crucial as that is. Through the yearly cycles of restoration work performed by our stewardship crew and volunteers under Dr. VanderWeide’s expert guidance, we are continuously caring for the land. We are slowly restoring as much of its historic diversity, richness and beauty as we possibly can after years of human use or neglect. And that transformation, that commitment to nurturing the land, sustains my commitment to the future, to a healthier world for the young, even when the nights grow longer and bare trees sketch black tracery against the autumn sky. I hope it does that for you, too.

Stewardship Manager Dr. Ben VanderWeide and volunteers gathering native seed to enrich other township parks.

Watershed Ridge: Water Works Its Miracles in a Small Restored Wetland

/ Cam Mannino / 5 Comments

I’m a convert; I’ve come to love wetlands. I grew up avoiding them, icky mud underfoot and the ever present annoyance of so many bugs, for heaven’s sake! But these days, camera swinging at my hip, binoculars bouncing on my chest, I often head straight for the muddy edge of a wetland.

Text and photos
by Cam Mannino

Shady swamps and vernal pools, sunny marshes and ponds, streams winding through a woodland, water seeping up from beneath the soil or trickling down a slope – that’s where life is swooping, singing, croaking, mating, predating, fluttering and buzzing in every park I visit. Oh, I relish a shady woods on a hot summer day, and I delight in the color and sway of a dancing prairie. But often a wetland is where the action is.

A berm constructed last fall has created open water between two wetlands at the bottom of a slope at Watershed Ridge Park – and creatures are making the most of it!

Last autumn, our Oakland Township Stewardship Manager, Dr. Ben VanderWeide, worked with local US Fish and Wildlife colleagues to restore several wetlands at Watershed Ridge Park that had been drained for agriculture years ago. One of these wetlands extends between two existing wetlands, and with a berm now holding some of the existing water and this summers downpours, a small area of open water now stands at the bottom of a former agricultural field. It may not look beautiful to you, but it certainly looked inviting to a remarkable number of interesting creatures.

On the Way to the Wetland

One recent Sunday, my husband Reg spotted a Leopard Frog (Rana pipiens), its bright green spotted skin and light stripes (technically “dorsolateral folds”) shining up out of dry grass around the parking lot. I’d been hoping to see these frogs, having noticed them at this park in previous years. Their colors vary from brown to green, but the bright green ones are my favorites. Leopard Frogs use their speed and great leaping ability to escape predators so we were lucky to get this close to one.

A Leopard Frog paused for a portrait in dry stalks at the edge of the parking lot at Watershed Ridge Park.
Horseweed

We followed the path to the west of the parking lot out into a the field that runs along Buell Road. Though the land looks dry and barren now, dotted with Horseweed (Conyza canadensis), Ben thinks that the US Fish and Wildlife Service, which designed and constructed the wetland restoration to Ben’s concept, will be planting native prairie seed in these fields late this fall. Native grass and wildflower seed generally requires a period of cold weather in order to germinate in the spring.

Passing through the hedgerow to the second field, we came upon an Orange Sulphur Butterfly (Colias eurytheme) darting restlessly from stem to stem, back and forth across the path. I despaired of getting a shot of its fully opened wings; it scurries about very quickly and folds its wings at rest. But eventually I caught it in flight further away. Look at the dramatic difference! The yellow spots in the black wing borders indicate that this is a female Orange Sulphur. (Click on photos to enlarge)

  • Note the pink edges on the wings of the Orange Sulphur, a good field mark.
  • Such a difference in appearance when the Orange Sulphur flies!

As we reached the crest of the slope above the wetland, a Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) lifted from the edge of the little wetland, rose on its powerful wings, and disappeared to the north. What a hopeful sign that life had found its way to this tiny pond! We’ll discover what brought it to the pond a bit further on. Since I missed this glorious visitor, here’s a photo of a flying heron that I took at Lost Lake Park in 2018.

A Great Blue Heron on the wing

And Then the Dragonflies Began…

Moving toward the pond, I whirled around to catch a shot of something yellow whizzing by me. The creature never stopped moving, sailing far away and circling back time after time. My photo is a bit blurred because of its speed. But luckily, it was clear enough for dragonfly aficionados of the Facebook group “Odonata of the Eastern United States” to identify it for me as a Wandering Glider (Pantala Flavescens) – a dragonfly that was completely new to me!

A Wandering Glider dragonfly on the wing above the restored wetland

This golden dragonfly, it turns out, can fly a bit over five feet per second and according to Wikipedia, keeps moving “tirelessly with typical wandering flight for hours without making any perch.” All of that made me feel better about my photo! These Gliders are world travelers that migrate to our area each summer. Some of them make an annual multigenerational migration (like the Monarch butterfly) of about 11,200 miles, with each individual flying more than 3,700 miles! They are found on every continent except Antarctica. They’ve been recorded flying over 20,000 feet high in the Himalayas! A true super-hero insect – and I’m so pleased that it found our little wetland to its liking! Here’s a much more glamorous photo of this insect athlete taken and generously shared by drketaki, a photographer at iNaturalist.org.

A female Wandering Glider in its infrequent state of rest! Photo by drketaki (CC BY-NC at inaturalist.org

As we approached the pond, Reg and I realized that we had come upon a dragonfly hotspot. Dragonflies hovered, swooped, and whizzed in the air above the pond. Occasionally one would pause to cling to the stem of some aquatic plant and then whooosh! – off it went for another round of the pond or to make a brief foray into the surrounding field.

At the pond edge, another new acquaintance presented itself. A dark blue-black dragonfly with a sharply pointed abdomen clasped a dead stalk. Seeing those ragged black patches along the edges of the hindwing next to its abdomen, I remembered finding a photo of a Black Saddlebags dragonfly (Tramea lacerata) after seeing this wing pattern on a dragonfly years ago. Such an appropriate name!

A male Black Saddlebags dragonfly who may be finished mating and is now aging.

I was puzzled, though, because my dragonfly guide says that these dragonflies should have yellow spots on section 7 of the abdomen and this one at Watershed Ridge had only a faint orange/red mark. A helpful aficionado at the dragonfly Facebook group, though, verified that indeed, it was a Black Saddlebags but added that the color change was probably due to age. It’s believed that these insects migrate from points south (perhaps as far as Cuba) to breed here; their offspring then return to the south. This Saddlebags probably mated many times during his journey to our little wetland, and may be nearing the end of his life now. Isn’t he a lovely midnight blue? And I admire the color-coordinated blue stigma (tiny colored cells) at the tip of each wing.

Farther down the pond, I saw two mated, dark dragonflies flying about in tandem, the male gripping the female as they dashed around the pond. I snapped another blurry shot as they zoomed about. When I sharpened the photo in the computer for a closer look, the light glinting off their bodies made them appear spotted. So I’m still not sure of their identification. But the position of the male’s grasping and their overall dark color makes me think that maybe they were a mated pair of Black Saddlebags. After mating, the Saddlebags male grasps the female as they patrol the still water. Then she periodically drops to the surface to deposit eggs, then returns to the embrace of her mate to repeat the process many times. I’d like to think that the life cycle of the Black Saddlebags – or perhaps some other dark dragonfly – repeated itself at this restored wetland – one male almost finished with his life and another pair creating more of their kind.

A mated pair of dark dragonflies, perhaps Black Saddlebags, flying in tandem as the female periodically drops down to lay her eggs.

I spotted familiar dragonflies, too, of course. The black-and-white striped wings of a Twelve-spotted Skimmer (Libellula pulchella) flashed like Morse code as it flew by. Eventually I found it, resting for few minutes on a stem near the pond’s edge. These skimmers are quite accommodating for photographers; they choose a perch and return to it repeatedly, even if disturbed.

A Twelve-spotted Skimmer is named for its 12 black spots, though the males have an extra 8 white ones.

The bronze shimmer on the wings of a female Widow Skimmer (Libellula luctuosa) caught the sunlight as she perched peacefully on a dry plant stem. According to Kurt Mead in Dragonflies of the North Woods, these skimmers “hang beneath overarching leaves” during the night. I’d love to see that.

The black patches next to the abdomen of this female Widow Skimmer are smaller than the male’s who also has white bands beyond the black ones.

Common Whitetail dragonflies (Plathemis lydia) tend to perch on a flat surface, wings outstretched rather than clinging to stems like many dragonflies. A mature male joined the throng at Watershed Ridge Park but uncharacteristically chose to settle on a bent stem thrusting out of the decaying plant material that covers much of the water surface at the new wetland. Perhaps the more colorful competition at the pond edge was too intense for him. The broad black patch near the end of his wings, the smaller patch near the thorax and the powdery (pruinose) white abdomen are field marks for Whitetail males.

A Common Whitetail male chooses a decaying stem for a perch.

A male Blue Dasher dragonfly (Pachydiplax longipennis) protected his feeding perch and his mate will do the same once she returns. These dragonflies consume lots of mosquito larva (hooray!) and other small moths or flies – up to 10% of their body weight each day! According to Wikipedia, their hunting technique is just to stay very still and dart out to snatch any prey that ventures close to them, an activity in birds and insects called “hawking.” The striped thorax, blue abdomen, huge, iridescent green eyes and white face are male field marks of these Dashers.

A Blue Dasher male can be identified at a distance by his blue abdomen, striped thorax and large green eyes.

Damselflies, the other member of the order Odonata, had found their way to the wetland, too. This emerald green beauty is an Eastern Forktail damselfly (Ischnura verticalis), a plentiful species in our area.

A male Eastern Forktail dragonfly. These fellows fly from late June to October so keep your eyes open near water!

The one in my photo is a male, but I believe I saw a mature blue female Eastern Forktail ovipositing her eggs in plant material – but she was very tiny and at a great distance. So here’s a wonderful photo of just what I saw by another photographer, Mark Nenadov, who generously shared his work on Wikipedia (CC BY).

Other Signs of Renewed Life at the Wetland

Reg noticed a tiny orange butterfly bouncing along in its weak flight near the base of moist plant stems. I tracked it later in the afternoon and finally saw it land. It was the Least Skipper (Ancyloxypha numitor), an appropriate name for this tiny butterfly (.66 to one inch!) only slightly bigger than my smallest fingernail! Because the ventral (lower) side of its wings are unmarked with brown, it can look solid orange in flight.

The Least Skipper is just that – the smallest of the skippers, usually less than an inch long.

My entomologist mentor, Dr. Gary Parsons, director of the Michigan State University Bug House, identified this colorful character for me. It looks somewhat like a large ladybug, doesn’t it? And it is a larger version of the same family, the Coccinellidae – but this one is the Pink Spotted Lady Beetle (Coleomegilla maculata). (They come both orange and pink.) Like our old fave, the red Ladybug, these insects are the “good guys.” If you’re enjoying sweet corn right now like I am, thank these beetles! They thrive on the eggs of corn earworm, European corn borer and aphids among others. Farmers, I’ve read, have traditionally considered them allies.

The orange morph of the Pink Spotted Lady Beetle rids farm fields of several destructive larvae and aphids.

Now, About What Interested That Great Blue Heron…

With nearly every step that Reg and I took around the wet edge of this pond, we heard “plop, plop, plop,” as frogs leapt beneath the surface at our approach. Reg did spot a little Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica) sitting tentatively near the water’s edge.

The little Wood Frog with its black mask lined in white sat quietly at the edge of the pond.

The heron may have been preying on Wood Frogs, but I’m more inclined to think that the hidden jumpers were small Leopard Frogs. Wood Frogs tend to spend more of their time on uplands at this time of year, though Reg’s discovery was sitting near the water’s edge. According to a US Fish and Wildlife website, Leopard Frogs like to forage near the water’s edge in wet grassy areas; I’ve read they usually face the water ready for a quick escape jump. I’m not sure which frogs were “plopping,” because they were always two steps ahead of us, diving under the surface. Frogs can respire oxygen through their skin for hours while under water, so these guys never surfaced again during my visit. Drat! Ah well, I’m glad so many frogs of whatever species inhabit this little wetland, foraging for insects and potentially serving as forage themselves for a hungry Great Blue Heron.

Aquatic Plants Flourish at the Pond as Well

After the berm was created to restore this wetland, Ben planted Water Plantain (Alisma subcordatum) and now it forms a delicate plume of white and green around one edge of the pond. The tiny flowers must produce wonderful nectar, because European Honey Bees (Apis mellifera) had found their way to the wetland and were buzzing everywhere within these tiny blossoms.

One of many non-native European Honey Bees foraging on tiny blossoms of Water Plantain at the edge of the wetland.

A native Bumblebee (genus Bombus) found its way to a graceful stalk of Blue Vervain (Verbena hastata) blooming in shallow water on the south edge of the new wetland.

Bumblebee finding what it needs in the purple blossoms of Blue Vervain

Some aquatic plants found their way to the wetland without Ben’s assistance. According to the Illinois Wildflowers website, the native Bulrush on the left provides sustenance for many creatures. Lots of insects, including caterpillars, two species of Katydids and the Two-striped Grasshopper nibble the leaves. Birds like Canada Geese and swans will happily consume the seeds. Among mammals, muskrats munch on the rootstocks and Meadow Voles will clean up any fallen seed. So it’s a very useful plant for its habitat! The tubers of Yellow Nutsedge (Cyperus esculentus) on the right provide food for a wide range of dabbling ducks, including Pintails, Teals and Mallards. Every native plant has a role to play in keeping life humming in our parks and wild areas.

  • Native Bulrush provides food for insects, bird and mammals.
  • Yellow Nutsedge tubers are a favorite with a wide variety of ducks.

Even a Little Water Supports So Much Life!

Surprise! An abundant flourishing of life in a most unlikely place.

Please take another look at this restoration project. It’s just a modest little wetland tucked into the bottom of sloping hills in the corner of a former farm field. But thanks to Ben’s creative thinking and planning, the careful design and construction by the US Fish and Wildlife Service and repeated summer downpours, it became a lively oasis for all kinds of wildlife. Instead of remaining a soggy, unproductive area in an agricultural field, it burgeoned into a gathering spot for dragonflies, local ones and ones who travel thousands of miles to mate, feed and age here. New native plants have taken root and begun to colonize the pond. Frogs now huddle in the grass snatching bugs from the air and then slip beneath the pond’s surface to live another day. High in the sky, a huge bird spotted a new blue shape below and descended for a quick lunch. This kind of diversity and richness exemplifies what ecologists call a “productive” habitat, one that provides sustenance, nesting areas, cover and water to many species. Imagine how much more life might visit here when the slope above it is seeded with native plants!

That’s why for me this muddy little pond is a miracle. Just a little water gathered in a low spot provides all those ecosystems services while also providing beauty for us humans. The delicate white plumes of water plantain, the iridescent glow of a damselfly, the “plop” of frogs and the sight of a huge blue bird rising out of the rushes are nature’s gratuitous gifts. Our role is first to stop long enough to simply behold what’s in front of us. We need time to let nature work its magic. And then we can get back to work protecting and restoring our natural inheritance.

Bear Creek Nature Park: Spring Arrives on a Wing and a Song

/ Cam Mannino / 4 Comments

I dropped in on Bear Creek Nature Park multiple times in April and early May, watching nature’s slow-but-steady journey into spring. After a difficult year, seeing nature renew itself felt especially reassuring – a useful antidote to the leftover doldrums of 2020.

Text and photos by Cam Mannino

This week along with my own photos, I’ll be including many by other residents who generously agreed to share their amazing photography. Regular blog readers will remember Bob and Joan Bonin who have previously lent me their amazing photos. And recently, I made a new photographer acquaintance, Paul Birtwhistle, who explores our parks with his camera and his peaceful dog Stanley. All three of these local photographers are blessed with eagle eyes and exceptional photographic skills as you’ll see below. I thank them all for their willingness to let me share their finds with all of you. Believe me, you’re in for a treat!

Nature Begins to Stir in the Cool Gray of Early April

The bare-bones beauty of Bear Creek’s Center Pond in early April

It seems that each year as I enter the park in early spring, the first song that falls from the canopy is that of the Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia.) Their song, which can vary a bit geographically, most often starts with a few short notes, followed by a melodious trill and finishes off with a buzz. A streaky, little brown male with the typical spot on his breast perched at the top of a tree, threw back his head and belted out his song to woo any willing female within range. This year’s vocalist was much too far away for a decent photo, but here’s one from an earlier spring at Bear Creek Nature Park.

Song Sparrows learn their songs from males in the area in which they’re born, so their song versions vary in different locations.

During the bird walk in the first week of April, Ben spotted a Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) posing right at the tip of a snag near the park entrance. It was so high that it only made a silhouette against a gray spring sky, but I tried to take a photo anyway. I love that big red crest! These woodpeckers make their rectangular nest holes high in either snags or live trees in the spring and then make lower ones in the fall as shelter from winter winds. I’m going to keep an eye on that snag!

A Pileated Woodpecker poses against the gray of a cold, early April morning.

This Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens) looked a bit chilly as it huddled against a bare branch while searching for frozen caterpillars or insect eggs.

A Downy Woodpecker felt as chilly as I did on a cold April morning.

On the way down the Walnut Lane toward the Center Pond, I spotted a Hazelnut Bush (Corylus americana) in bloom. The golden catkins are male flowers. The slightest breeze sends their pollen wafting over the tiny, pink female flowers that barely peek out from the end of the twigs. I’ll be curious to see if it produces any hazelnuts on its thin branches. [Click on photos to enlarge.]

  • The male catkins of the Hazelnut Bush.
  • The tiny pink female flowers of the Hazelnut are pollinated by the wind.

The chuckling of Wood Frogs (Lithobates sylvaticus) in a vernal pool invariably greets me as I step into the woods in early April. These little frogs float on the surface, occasionally kicking their legs to move about as they call for a mate. Consequently, they’re much easier to spot than the tinier chorus frogs who lurk under the edges of logs or aquatic plants. After having frozen and thawed unharmed throughout the winter, these masked frogs move toward the pools in early spring. Vernal pools dry up in the summer, which means Wood Frogs can lay their eggs without fish making a meal of them. This time, a log seemed to provide a handy place for the frogs to rest between unsuccessful bouts of floating and chirping; I sympathized as a former wallflower myself!

  • Wood Frogs float on the surface surrounded by ripples that make them easy to see.
  • Some of the wood frogs rested periodically on a partially submerged log.

A pair of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) cruised the far end of the vernal pool. At one point, the slightly larger male performed some amazing preening moves. Or maybe he was posing in an attempt to flirt. If so, his partner doesn’t seem too impressed.

It’s hard to tell whether the male Canada Goose is preening or flirting. The female doesn’t seem interested in either case.

On the way back from the Wednesday bird walk at Bear Creek in early May, my photographer friend, Bob Bonin, got a wonderful shot of a Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) excavating a promising nest hole. Look at that beak full of wood! Chickadees are cavity nesters and will create a nest in soft wood if they can’t find an existing hole that suits them.

A Black-capped Chickadee can create its own nest hole in soft wood if it can’t find a suitable exisiting cavity. Photo by Bob Bonin

Birds and Blossoms as the Woods Turn Green in Late April

  • The woods near Gunn Road in early April
  • The same woods in late April

Spring turned from brown to green in the second half of April. Unseen in the night sky, millions of birds rode the wind north and some eventually drifted down into Bear Creek Nature Park. Many came here planning to raise young in the park. For others, it was simply a rest stop on their journey farther north.

The Avian Summer Residents

My new photographer friend, Paul Birtwhistle, got an amazing shot of a rarely seen visitor, the American Bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus). While Paul and his dog sat quietly on the far north dock of Bear Creek marsh, the Bittern stepped quietly out of the reeds near the shore. Bitterns can breed in Michigan so we can hope this one chooses our marsh. If so, perhaps one day we will hear their booming call that sounds like a low “gulp” coming through the cattails and reeds. Cornell Ornithology’s All About Birds website says that when this birds sees a possible threat, it may choose to assume its concealment pose, its neck elongated and its bill tilted toward the sky. Sometimes it even sways, trying to blend its striped body into the moving reeds. Cornell says the posture is so ingrained that they sometimes do it even when in the open as it was in our marsh. I’m glad Paul had this exciting moment and shared it with us.

  • An American Bittern in the reeds
  • The Bittern looking around.
  • The Bittern possibly beginning a concealment pose
American Bittern at Bear Creek Marsh , photos by Paul Birtwhistle

Paul also saw a Sandhill Crane (Antigone canadensis) at the marsh and a male Wood Duck (Aix sponsa) cruising in a woodland marsh on the southwestern side of the forest. These birds both tend to spend the summer here to mate and raise their young. The Sandhills toss plant material into a mound, then form a neat cup in the center lined with twigs. Wood Ducks look for cavities high in the trees near water, using the hooks at the back of their feet to navigate on the tree bark. What great guests to host for the summer!

  • A Sandhill Crane in the Bear Creek marsh. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle
  • A male Wood Duck in a woodland marsh; wood ducks prefer to nest near water. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

Every year we also act as hosts for the Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor) in the nest boxes built by birder Tom Korb and installed by the Stewardship Crew. These iridescent avian acrobats will soar above our fields all summer, gathering insects in their open beaks. But in late April, they are busy within our boxes creating nests out of dry grass and lining them with white feathers. Paul caught a pair claiming a nest box on April 27.

A pair of Tree Swallows on a township bird box at Bear Creek Nature Park. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

In a tree near the nest boxes, a male Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) surveyed the territory. He appeared to be keeping an eye on his mate as she gathered grass for her nest. Bluebirds will nest in boxes near our Tree Swallows from time to time, but they won’t tolerate another bluebird pair close by. Their sky blue eggs take twelve to fourteen days to hatch. A team of trained volunteers coordinated by our township Stewardship Specialist, Grant VanderLaan, monitor the nest boxes in several parks from first egg laid until the young fledge. The data are provided to Cornell University’s NestWatch program, a citizen science project. Some bluebirds stay with us all year ’round and others seek us out as the weather warms.

A male Bluebird surveys the area near the nest boxes at Bear Creek Nature Park.

On April 24, Paul Birtwhistle spent a long time at the Center Pond listening to the kwirr call of the Red-bellied Woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus) before being able to spot it. At last, he caught sight of the red crown and nape of a male’s head peeking out from a hole on the underside of a branch on the huge White Oak at the pond’s edge. Years ago near the Bear Creek marsh, I’d seen one of these woodpeckers sticking its head out of a horizontal, upside-down nest hole in an oak branch. It seems that these male woodpeckers excavate several nest holes in hope of giving their mate a choice.

A male Red-bellied Woodpecker excavating a possible nest hole to please its mate. Note the wood chips on his red crown. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle

According to the Cornell Ornithology Lab’s All About Birds website, one of the Red-belly’s options for nest hole placement is dead limbs in a live tree, which is exactly where this bird ended up. The holes are about 9-13 inches deep (or maybe horizontal in this case?) and the circular living space is roughly 3.5 by 5.5 inches. Pretty snug fit, I would think! Once the female has chosen her preferred hole, she lays her eggs on a bed of wood chips left from the excavation accomplished by both mates. Sometimes, the pair drill holes along the branch outside the nest hole to warn off other birds, a kind of “We claim this spot!” message. I hope this hole by the pond was chosen by the female.

Katri Studtmann, one of the stewardship summer technicians, gave me a heads-up to look for a Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon) that she’d seen at the Center Pond. Of course, the Kingfisher saw me first as I came to the end of the Walnut Lane and took off. I saw her dive into the water at the far end of the pond, but she came up empty. Females, by the way, have one blue and one chestnut brown stripe on their breasts while the males have only the blue stripe.

A female Belted Kingfisher dipped into the Center Pond with a splash but missed her prey.

In a grassy spot, Paul watched two Northern Flickers (Colaptes auratus) do a ritualistic dance with their beaks. At first, I thought it was a mating dance – but these are two female Flickers! After reading a bit, I learned that flickers sometimes do this ritual to protect either their mate or their nesting territory. I’m guessing these two are having a quiet, non-violent disagreement about boundaries. Thanks to Paul for getting several shots so we can appreciate their dance moves!
  • Two female flickers begin a disagreement over territory boundaries.
  • It appears one is backing down?
  • They are working at cross purposes.
  • Dancing beak to beak

Of course many more birds arrived at Bear Creek Nature Park last month than Paul, Bob, Joan or I happened to see, successfully record or share. But using the Cornell eBird lists created by participants on the April and early May bird walks, here’s another quick slide show of birds you might see or hear at our parks now if your binoculars can find them among the spring greenery! (The photos here are from previous years by me and others.)

  • Great Egret (Aldea alba)
  • Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) by Bob Bonin
  • Great Blue Heron (Aldea herodias)
  • Golden-crowned Kinglet ( Regulus satrapa)
  • Eastern Towhee (Pipilo erythrophthalmus)
  • American Redstart (Setophaga ruticilla)
  • Common Yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas)
  • Chipping Sparrow (Spizella passerina)
  • Rose-breasted Grosbeak (Pheucticus ludovicianus)

All Eyes on the Warblers in May! Some Stay and Some are Just Passing Through

The big warbler migration began here in late-April with hearing or seeing the Blue-winged Warbler and the Palm Warbler. During the May bird walks at both Bear Creek Nature Park and Cranberry Lake Park, we saw many more of these tiny long-distance travelers. So keep your eyes open for small, colorful birds flitting about in trees or diving in and out of shrubs. You don’t want to miss these beauties who often arrive in the morning after riding a strong south wind during the previous night. Some choose to spend the summer here raising young. But others you’ll see below are only here for a few days as they rest up before heading north.

  • The Blackburnian Warbler (Setophaga fusca) breeds high in canopy farther north in Michigan
  • The Black-throated Blue Warbler is heading toward the tip of the “mitten,” or farther north.
  • Yellow-rumped Warbler (Setophaga coronata) often is an early arrival in our forest and moves on farther north.
  • Yellow Warbler (Setophaga petechia) building her nest. By Bob Bonin.
  • The Palm Warbler (Setophaga palmarum) is headed for the boreal forests of Canada
  • We’re within the breeding grounds for the Blue-winged Warbler (Vermivora cyanoptera). Photo by Joan Bonin

Under a Greening Canopy, Spring Blossoms Emerge in the Woods

As migrating birds arrive, the woodland plants seem to magically appear as the soil warms under the spare canopy of spring. Always the first to arrive are the spring ephemerals, like Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica). This spring ephemeral blooms very early to catch the sun while the trees are bare, then quickly subsides as the shade increases above it. Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) does the same, but uses its leaf cupped below the blossom to preserve some warmth on cool spring days. Bloodroot leaves remain for some time after the petals of the flower have fallen.

  • Spring Beauties appear before the leaves emerge and disappear quickly.
  • Bloodroot blossoms keep warm in early spring by huddling within their cape-like leaves

In late April and early May, May Apples (Podophyllum peltatum) begin to form colonies under large trees and produce their shy flowers beneath the leaves. Jack-in-the-pulpits (Arisaema triphyllum) unfold in the woodland shade.

  • Colonies of May Apples form under large trees each year at Bear Creek.
  • Jack in the Pulpits favor the moist shade of the Oak-Hickory forest.

Delicate Wood Anemone blossoms (Anemone quinquefolia) nod above their frail stems in the moist shade near vernal pools. Nearby red sporophytes rise from green gametophyte moss. When mature, the sporophyte moss will release the spores which will disperse to start new gametophyte moss colonies.

  • Wood Anemones finding the spring sun near a vernal pool
  • Sporophytes rising above the moss to begin reproduction

And at the forest edge of the big loop, the white blossoms of American Dogwood (Cornus florida) turn their faces upward to the sun.

Each oval Dogwood bud faces upward during the winter, so the blossoms do the same as they emerge in the spring.

Resilience, Adaptation – and Song!

  • A dry Hop Hornbeam leaf from last summer in early April
  • Fresh Hop Hornbeam leaves later in April

In April, I stood by a vernal pool listening to the chuckling song of Wood Frogs who had frozen and thawed repeatedly during a Michigan winter. This week I paused to enjoy the rippling melody of a Rose-breasted Grosbeak that rode the wind through the night to end up singing at the edge of a greening field. Life presents all of us mortal creatures with harrowing challenges. And still the wild ones sing, the leaves thrust through tough bark, and fragile flowers open their beauty to feed the world around them.

As part of the natural world, we too have faced repeated challenges to our survival, especially in the last fifteen months, haven’t we? Most of us have learned that we are more resilient than we knew. Like the little frogs, we have adapted to repeated and sudden changes. Like the birds, by moving on through the darkness we’ve reached the light of another spring. Like the plants, we struggled to bloom where we were planted, accepting limitations but still able to share what beauty we could muster with those around us who needed our nourishment. Despite the losses we’ve had and those we know will eventually come to all of us, let’s follow nature’s example and celebrate the fact that we’re here right now. Let’s belt out our own songs to a blue spring sky and relish being alive.

Lost Lake Nature Park: In Autumn, It’s the Little Things

/ Cam Mannino / 2 Comments

Autumn color edges Lost Lake on a crisp fall day

Autumn begins to pare nature down to a few essentials. Earlier, cold nights and warm days provided a riot of color which has now begun to mellow into golds and russets.  Glamorous flowers subside in the chill, and butterflies have either departed or completed their brief lives. Bird song is replaced by chitters and calls, except for the call-and-response bugling of  geese and sandhill cranes as they wheel and soar high above us, heeding the siren call of the south.

So I always imagine that making discoveries to share with you will be more difficult in fall and winter. And to some extent that’s true. But what’s really required is that I pay more attention to the little surprises that nature always has in store. What’s moving in the leaves beneath that tree? What’s that peeping I hear in the reeds? What tiny saplings emerged this summer that I’d missed in the hubbub of a summer day?

So please join me for a relatively short, virtual hike around this fifty-eight acre park. Maybe you’ll be as intrigued as I was by the variety of its habitats and by the “little things” that went unnoticed until autumn began its work.

llnp_20190205_virtualhikemap

It’s Called Lost Lake, so Let’s Begin at the Dock

A Great Blue Heron winging its way across Lost Lake

As I approached the lake on my first visit, I looked up between the autumn treetops to see the graceful silhouette of a Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias). Between the slow, powerful beats of its magnificent wings, it glided swiftly through the thin, blue air. These stately birds will travel just far enough in the fall to find open water where they can feed. I just learned that they have special photoreceptors in their eyes that allow them to feed at night as well as in daylight. Wouldn’t it be magical to see one fishing in the moonlight?

But down on the surface of the lake, only one calm, female duck cruised the chilly water. I wondered why she was alone – no mate yet? But she seemed quite serene as she silently surveyed her surroundings.  

A solitary female Mallard seemed to enjoy being the only bird on the lake.

She wasn’t alone for long though. Behind me the raucous honking of a flock of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) broke the silence that she and I enjoyed. About thirty of them appeared from behind me and circled the pond, constantly announcing their arrival. At one point, they flew right above me so that I could hear the snap of the joints in those powerful wings and the air pouring through them. They descended to the surface and formed a long, single-file line on the far edge of the pond and went completely silent. Peace descended again around the pond.

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At the east edge of the lake, a solitary goose kept company with two small companions – a pair of Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus). You may have to look carefully for the second one; it’s near the goose’s tail feathers with its back turned away from the camera.  

A Canada Goose rests while two little Killdeer forage in the mud nearby.

I say “kept company,” because though the killdeer lifted their angled wings to fly off to other muddy edges, for some reason, they kept returning to their very calm, large companion. I imagine some particularly yummy food source lay buried in the mud there  – maybe snails, aquatic insect larvae, or even the odd crayfish. But the harmony between the species was a peaceful sight.

Later I saw the Killdeer foraging on a mud flat on the north side of the lake with a small, brown and white bird with yellow legs. When I researched at home and then consulted expert birder, Ruth Glass, she confirmed that I’d seen a Least Sandpiper (Calidris minutilla) and she added that seeing them at this time of year was “a rarity.” How exciting! This sandpiper searches out much the same food as the Killdeer, though with its sloping beak, it can probe a bit deeper in the mud. Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s All About Birds website informs me that they “probe damp mud for buried prey, using the surface tension of the water to transport the item quickly from their bill tips to their mouths.” Neat trick! Here’s my somewhat blurry photo of the two smaller birds; my lens didn’t quite reach two small birds on the north shore of the pond. So I hunted up a better photo of the Least Sandpiper taken by jmaley at inaturalist.org.[Click on photos to enlarge; hover cursor for captions.]

A Least Sandpiper and Killdeer on the far edge of Lost Lake
Least Sandpiper by jmaley at inaturalist.org [Public Domain]

Another little Sandpiper – perhaps the same one –  also showed up near two huge Sandhill Cranes (Antigone canadensis), but I didn’t get a decent photo before it flew. The two big cranes preened and foraged on the east edge of the lake. Both the little Sandpiper and the Cranes will soon migrate south, the Sandhills to Florida or the Southwest and the Sandpipers to the gulf states. I’m glad I got to enjoy a rare sighting of the sandpiper and to bid farewell to all of these water birds before they started their long journeys. 

Two Sandhill Cranes at the lake edge

On an almost spring-like morning a week or so ago, as the sun glittered on the water, I watched a Muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus) make a bee-line across the lake. The wake it created with its head made it seem that it was pushing a splash of sunlight. This furry little rug of a creature was using its webbed feet and side-swishing tail to propel itself speedily across the lake!

A muskrat creating a wake as it quickly crossed Lost Lake

I followed it until it dove with a small splash and finally discerned on the west side of the lake, a large, well-camouflaged lodge at the water’s edge piled with the stems and leaves of Fragrant Water Lily ( Nymphea odorata) and other aquatic plant material. The entrance to its spacious home is underwater with an entrance way that slopes upward to keep the living quarters dry.  When I looked around to see if I could tell the direction from which it had come, I noticed the beginnings of a small feeding platform. During the long winter months, the muskrat, breathing slowly, will periodically cruise under the ice, taking the food it can find – mostly plant material – up into the fresh air for a meal and a bit more oxygen. It had deposited a freshly harvested lily pad on it when I arrived the next morning.

But it was the tiny creatures around the pond that surprised and delighted me most.  On one warmish fall day, I kept hearing an odd twittering croaking coming from the reeds on the east side of the pond. What was that? Small birds? No sign of a flock. Crickets? Maybe, but it seemed very fast for crickets. It sounded a bit like frogs, but it had been so cold at night. Why would frogs be singing in the autumn?  

The next day, I made it a point to explore the east edge of the lake, edging as close as I could to it from Lost Lake Trail, where I hoped to find a clue to the mystery chorus.    

The southeast end of Lost Lake from the dock.

The scarlet berries of Michigan Holly/Winterberry (Ilex verticillata), a wetland shrub, would no doubt be feeding birds and perhaps other animals during the winter months, while propagating itself around Lost Lake. This cheerful, native holly loses its leaves but keeps its bright red drupes (a fruit with one seed or pit) well into the snowy winter months. If you have a wet spot on your property, you might think about this native ornamental beauty!

Michigan Holly is a native bush that is reportedly easy to grow with few diseases or pests.

Walking through dry leaves near the lake, something tiny jumped near my feet. I stopped and took a long look and finally tracked down a very tiny (maybe 1-2 inch?), very pale frog clinging to a stick at the foot of a tree. I was totally mystified – a tiny frog in the autumn? And when I got home and looked at the photo more closely, I was astonished to seed the “x” markings on its back –  a Spring Peeper (Pseudacris crucifer)???!

A Spring Peeper appeared in the woods at Lost Lake, an odd sight in the autumn.

After a bit of online research, I found the website of the Orianne Society in Vermont whose mission is to help preserve habitat for amphibians and reptiles. Generally, Peepers quiet down once their mating season concludes in late spring. But evidently on cool, wet fall days, spring peepers are known to call and the reason isn’t entirely clear. But one hypothesis is that by late August, peepers are almost fully mature. But they will soon begin to shut down their metabolism to survive the winter, freezing almost solid, protected by internal anti-freeze. So the theory is that on warmish days, they may try out their spring songs out of an abundance of hormones. What a surprise!

However, the chorus by the lake didn’t sound a bit like a chorus of spring peepers; it was much too fast and not melodius. My best guess now is an unseen twittering flock of crickets or small birds that just stayed down in the tall aquatic vegetation at the lake’s edge. I never saw a flock of birds emerge and eventually the chorus went silent. So the mystery continues.

I went back to the dock, curious if there were any other frogs that I’d missed there. As I scanned with the binoculars, I suddenly noticed a small upright form near the edge of the dock. Another frog – but not a peeper! I approached stealthily with my camera, pausing periodically, moving very slowly. Eventually I got close enough to see a distinguishing field mark – a thin ridge of skin running from the back of the eye and curving around the tympanum, the frog’s round eardrum. My best guess is that this little frog was an immature female because her throat was white rather than yellow and she was very small. It can take up to three years for a bullfrog to mature. I hope this silent little one found her way back onto the muddy bottom of the lake before the night temperatures dropped again.

An immature female Bullfrog sitting quietly near the lake edge on a warmish fall day

A mowed area surrounded by trees and wetland just west of the lake hosts a shining stand of Yellow Birch trees (Betula alleghaniensis). I love to see them on a sunny afternoon because their bronze bark shines silver in the sunlight and forms lovely curls and frills like other birches. Yellow birches are one of the tallest of their kind.This particular one had a definite list to the east, probably caused by wind and the moist soil it prefers. If you love birches and have moist soil, this glamorous bark adds some serious pizzazz to the landscape!

The bronze bark of the Yellow Birch turns silver in bright sunlight.
Yellow Birch is one of the tallest of all birches.

Into the Forest With a Different Pair of Eyes

A wise pair of “eyes” peered out from a fallen log among the leaves.

A huge smile and a little “Oh!” accompanied my discovery of this log in the forest at Lost Lake.  I’d been thinking about my need to pay attention, to look closely at this moist, wooded habitat because I remembered that small, special moments can occur in nature once autumn arrives.  And suddenly, these seemingly ancient, Yoda-like eyes were staring at me from a fallen log! I love that it also appears to be winking!

Leaving the lake behind and starting down the woodland trail beyond the caretaker’s house at Lost Lake always feels like I’m moving into another world. On the left the forest sweeps upward into a rolling landscape.

The forest at Lost Lake stands on rolling slopes that rise to the sledding hill.

On the right as you walk farther in, the land continues downward to a moist wetland area full of mosses and mystery.

The forest trail slopes down toward a moist wetland area.

The trees within the moist lower area of the forest grip the wet soil with roots that grow above the ground. Dr. Ben VanderWeide, our township stewardship manager, told me that these “buttressed roots” probably provide extra support in the soft soil. I also read that in poor soils, they can provide a wider area for seeking nutrients, though that may not be an issue in this forest at Lost Lake Nature Park.  

Buttressed roots provide the trees in the wetland area with more support and more nutrients.

What’s especially enchanting in this forest are the mossy gardens that form over the tops of these buttressed roots. Moss, ferns, leaves and some small plants have created a plush cushion surrounding this maple tree.  

Moss forms a plump cushion over the buttressed roots of this tree.

Intermediate Wood Ferns (Dryopteris intermedia) are tucked close to the trunks of several trees in this part of the woods. This fern glows emerald green for most of the winter in the moist shade of this part of the forest. It spreads by spores like other ferns, but doesn’t spread easily, so it could be successful in a continually moist shade garden, I imagine.  

Intermediate Wood Fern loves the moist shade of the wetland area and will stay green throughout the winter.

By looking carefully downward as I walked, I spotted several tiny saplings emerging from the fallen leaves. In the lowland area, the moist soil suited a tiny Swamp Oak (Quercus bicolor), whose four leaves had gathered all the sun available in the forest shade. It’s got a long way to go before reaching the 40-60 feet possible for this species of oak.  

A Swamp White Oak sprouting in the moist shade of the lowland forest area

The steep slopes of the Lost Lake forest create a lot of fallen logs. Without the distractions of flowers, insects and birds calls, I focus on them more in the autumn. Besides the peering knothole eyes above, I noticed an aging log with the bark peeled back to reveal its reddish brown sapwood which carried water and nutrients up to the treetops or down to the roots when the tree was alive.   

Under the bark of a log, the sapwood of the tree glows rich red-brown in the forest shade.

And of course, mushrooms are at work recycling the nutrients of  fallen trees back into the soil. The cold nights have done in most of them, but I appreciated the ruffly edges and autumn tones  of these aging Turkey-tail Mushrooms (Trametes versicolor).

Turkey Tail mushrooms decorate a fallen log in the moist areas of the Lost Lake forest.

A Quick Trip to a Possible Future

Oakland Township Parks and Recreation also has a small piece of property across Turtle Creek Lane, a private road on the west edge of the park.  I walked north up the lane a  short distance and found the “Park Property” sign to be sure I wasn’t on private land.  Native Huckleberry colonies (Gaylussacia baccata) flourish in the dappled shade of this more open woods. As a shrub, Huckleberry produces black berries and its leaves turn lovely shades of red in the fall.

A native Huckleberry colony on park property across the road.

I walked up into that lovely wood and headed north a short distance to the edge of the marsh.  In the distance, a stand of yellowing trees interspersed with green conifers towered over the spongy soft earth of a huge, circular bog. 

A marsh west of Lost Lake Park with a bog in the distance.

The Michigan Natural Features Inventory defines a bog as a”a nutrient-poor peatland characterized by acidic, saturated peat and the prevalence of sphagnum mosses and ericaceous [acid-loving] shrubs.” Often bogs are the remains of glacial lakes that formed and then drained away as the 2 mile thick ice sheet withdrew from Michigan about 10,000 years ago. In fact, Lost Lake itself is a “kettle lake” that formed from a melting block of glacial ice. This marsh and bog are part of a spectacular piece of land that the Parks Commission hopes to purchase in the future if we are fortunate enough to receive a matching grant from the Michigan Natural Resources Trust Fund. Keep your fingers crossed, please!

Standing at south edge of the marsh, I could see the yellowing needles of Tamarack trees (Larix laricina) and their bog-loving companions, Black Spruce (Picea mariana). Here’s a closer look:

The Tamaracks’ needles turn yellow and drop in the fall. The spruces stay green.

Despite being conifers, the Tamarack’s needles turn yellow and drop in the autumn leaving them bare during the winter like other deciduous trees. The spruces earn the name “evergreen,” by regularly shedding only their older needles as newer needles take their place. Both of these species thrive in very cold temperatures with soil that is acidic and continually wet.  According to Wikipedia, Tamaracks, for example, tolerate temperatures as low as -85 degrees Fahrenheit! Black Spruces prosper in the snowy boreal forests of Canada and the Arctic. But here they are in Oakland Township, remnants of the Ice Age!

Back to the Park, a Climb Up the Hill and Down

Looking down the sledding hill at Lost Lake Nature Park

Returning to Lost Lake Nature Park, I started up the forest trail that leads to the top of the sledding hill. On the way up, I passed small patches of Blue Wood/Heart-leaved Aster (Symphyotrichum cordifolium), one of the late season asters that appears in August and lasts into October and can fit itself into a wide variety of habitats. It was accompanied by one of my favorite grasses, Bottlebrush Grass (Elymus hystrix) whose seeds are carried on the wind by arrow-shaped “awns.” Nearby, lichen and mosses made a mosaic of green on a large rock. I begin to crave color as autumn and winter move on.   

Blue Wood/Heart-leaved Aster added their bit of color to the hill trail at Lost Lake.
Bottlebrush disperses its seeds on arrow-shaped awns.
A stone patterned with mosses and lichen.

Near the hilltop, I met up with a tiny cricket pausing on a fallen Sassafras leaf. I thought perhaps it was a Tinkling Ground Cricket (Allonemobius tinnulus) because they live in wooded areas and sing in the fall – and don’t you love the name? But when I contacted Dr. Parsons of the Michigan State University Entomology  Department, he informed me that five crickets in the genus Allonemobius live in our county and sing in the fall, but, as is often the case with insects, he couldn’t really make a firm identification from the photo. He could assure me, though, after listening to a short recording I made by the lake, that neither of these crickets were in the unseen chorus. So that mystery remains a mystery. But I was pleased to meet this little creature and watch it slip under a leaf as I walked on.

A cricket on the forest trail, sitting on a sassafras leaf.

Just over the east edge of the sledding hill, a group of young Sassafras saplings (Sassafras albidum) wobbled in the wind, their tiny trunks supporting large leaves. I always admire nature’s strategy of equipping saplings with huge leaves for gathering in the sun. The roots of Sassafras were once used to make root beer, though now the root bark is considered a carcinogen. But you can still get a whiff of root beer from the stem of a freshly cut leaf or twig. Sassafras trees are often identified by their three-lobed, “mitten-shaped” leaves, but actually unlobed, two-lobed and three-lobed leaves often appear on the same tree. Here are the trembling Sassafras saplings and an unlobed Sassafras leaf bejeweled after a rain.

Sassafras saplings on the sledding hill at Lost Lake
An unlobed Sassafras leaf

I decided to skirt around the rim of trees that surrounds the sledding hill rather than plunging straight down. And I was happy I did when I came across this tiny Eastern White Pine sapling (Pinus strobus) thrusting its way through the leaf litter. This little native pine is another fine example of how autumn causes me to look more carefully and be delightfully surprised. I have a soft spot for White Pines, the tallest conifers in Michigan,  with their blue-green, silky needles  and I doubt I would have noticed this tiny tree in the color and bustle of the spring and summer. 

A tiny Eastern White Pine sapling emerging from the leaf litter

When I reached my car to return home, there in a White Oak (Quercus alba) by the parking lot hung a giant abandoned residence, the nest of  some sort of  Yellow Jacket Wasp (genus Dolichovespula or Vespula), possibly the Bald-faced Hornet (Dolichovespula maculata), which is actually a species of Yellow Jacket, not a true hornet (genus Vespa). These social insects make nests above and below ground out of chewed wood pulp. The colony dies in the fall, except for the fertile queens that overwinter in tree bark or leaf litter and start a new nest each spring. The gratuitous beauty of these nests constructed by small insects never fails to inspire awe in me. How do they sculpt it using only tiny legs and mouths? I headed home happy to have seen one more small miracle.

A wasp or bald-faced hornet’s nest in a Bur Oak tree at Lost Lake.

In Autumn, Little Things Mean A Lot

Lily Pads floating over fall reflections in Lost Lake

See what I mean about autumn giving emphasis to the small, the unnoticed? Because this more austere season gets down to essentials, I’m pushed to pay closer attention. And when I do, wow, there’s a rare sighting of small brown bird with yellow legs, a miniature pine, a pair of ancient eyes peering from a log or a pale spring peeper scrambling among the fallen leaves. In the warm seasons, I might have missed these little surprises and I’m very thankful that I didn’t.  And I’m especially grateful that I get to share them with you, too. Thanks for joining me.

The road home from Lost Lake in mid October.