Tag Archives: Ostrich Fern

Cranberry Lake Park: Spring Music in the Wetlands

In spring, nature generously replenishes the multitude of Cranberry Lake Park’s wetlands. Besides the lake itself, shady woodland ponds and pools glitter through the trees along nearly every trail at Cranberry. All of which makes me happy, because being near water is the surest way to find wildlife and interesting plants.

Photos and text
by Cam Mannino

I seek out wet places whenever I go visit our parks since so much goes on around wetlands. Right now, ferns unfurl and spring wildflowers emerge on the sunny or shady edges of trails. Birds sing and chatter from within or just outside of the wetlands, as they forage, perform for mates, challenge others for territory or simply celebrate the sun after a cold rainy night. Throughout the park on three spring mornings, glorious music kept me company as nature’s virtuosos joined in a  spring chorus.

An Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) found this insect larva where a wetland meets the eastern meadow at Cranberry Lake Park

After serious downpours, though,  it helps to know the trails well enough to avoid being confronted by a calf-deep small pond! Dr. Ben VanderWeide, our township Stewardship Manager, has kindly created a map of my meanderings at Cranberry Lake Park. This route generally can be done with dry or at least only moderately damp feet. So daub on a bit of bug repellent and don some waterproof footwear as we head out to the sights and the special spring sounds of rain-soaked Cranberry Lake Park.

CLP_Update2017_BlogHike
Spring 2020 hike at Cranberry Lake Park. You can also explore this park on our interactive park map at https://bit.ly/3g0GaRs.

Heading North Accompanied by Bird Song

The north trail from the farm site strewn with apple blossom petals

Seeing that the water on the short trail out of the parking lot was ankle-deep and impassible, I headed across the cut grass toward the red-and-white chicken coop that is part of historic Cranberry Lake Farm. I turned onto the trail that looked as if a wedding had just ended, as it was strewn with fallen apple petals. High overhead, the sweet, whistling song of a male Baltimore Oriole (Icterus galbula) celebrated the blue sky morning with a joyful noise!

A male Baltimore Oriole greeting the morning with his high, flute-like song.

Across the way, a bit further on, I paused to listen to a male Yellow Warbler (Setophaga petechia) repeating his quick “sweet, sweet, I’m a little sweet” song. He was deep in the greenery so I waited and watched. Finally I resorted to playing the warbler’s song on Merlin, Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s very useful bird ID app. I don’t use it often to flush out birds because it can stress them. So I played it only once. And out popped the Yellow Warbler to check out the competition.

A Yellow Warbler male pops out of the greenery.

He hopped about a bit for a minute or two and then went back into the greenery and continued to sing. I was relieved that he seemed to have decided that the bird on the app was no match for him!

Tracking West Across a Meadow

I turned left at the round turkey brooder building and headed back west toward the Shagbark Hickory Lane.  Oops – the trail was flooded here too, but luckily, the maintenance crew had set up a boardwalk along the edge which, though a bit askew, provided relatively dry footing.

Along the east-west trail nearest to the farm, a wooden platform provides dry footing after a night of rain.

As I walked into the meadow, I noticed a large insect bumbling about among the dandelions on the trail. I’m so glad I stopped for a closer look! A Snowberry Clearwing Moth (Hemaris diffinis) trundled its hefty body from one dandelion to the next. The non-native dandelions provided the nectar that morning, though I’ve seen Clearwings (there are two kinds around here) most often on native Bee Balm (Monarda fistulosa) when it blooms later in the summer. These moths, which look so much like bumblebees, fly during the day, but if they find a good nectar source, they can forage in the evening as well. So check out bumblebees on your flowers and see if you can spot one of these moths!

A Snowberry Clearwing Moth can easily be mistaken for an oversized bumblebee! 
The Snowberry Clearwing Moth sipping nectar from a dandelion.

Dandelions were also being visited by a green florescent native bee. I’ve learned not to attempt identification of native bees. According to Doug Parsons, director of the MSU Bug House, you really have to be an expert who has both the insect and a magnifying glass in hand to positively identify them.But I do love to look for these small, solitary, native bees!

A native bee making the most of early season dandelions.

Wild bees hadn’t yet discovered the modest wildflowers of Wild Strawberry (Fragaria virginiana) when I saw these tiny blossoms down among the tall grasses of the meadow.  I imagine hover flies and bees will show up once a few more flowers emerge. If the plant is fertilized, it will set a tiny fruit which no doubt some bird or animal will get to before I do!

Wild Strawberries in the south meadow at Cranberry Lake Park

A Gray Catbird (Dumetella carolinensis) chatted its conversational song in the bushes at the back of the meadow. Catbirds held their loud “conversations” all over the park one morning, combining whistles, squeaks and bits of other birds’ songs. Finally this one emerged into a Wild Cherry tree (Prunus serotina) where I took a quick shot before he sailed back into the shrubbery to sing some more.

A Gray Catbird sang its long song full of trills, chirps, whistles and such from among the blossoms of a Wild Cherry tree in the meadow.

The vigorous breezes of a beautiful spring morning drowned out my recording of this male. But a Catbird I heard last year at Bear Creek Nature Park’s Center Pond will give you a feel for the long, complicated phrasing of its song. On this recording, Green Frogs (Rana clamitans) provide backup percussion from the water below!

By now regular readers know that I’m quite fond of the Eastern Towhee (Dumetella carolinensis) –  probably because its song was one of the first ones I learned to recognize.   A male perched in a small tree invited a nearby female to appreciate his rendition of  “Drink your teaaaaa.” She listened politely nearby. I was surprised to learn from Donald W. Stokes’ A Guide to Bird Behavior, Vol.2 that Towhees make their nests on the ground like many sparrows. Once the nest is built, both adults become more secretive. The male stays away until the eggs hatch. At that point, he returns to feed both his mate and the young and continues helping the female with caring for the young from then on. So look for them in spring before they start nesting! [Click on photos to enlarge; hover cursor for captions.]

A Trip Down Hickory Lane

An old farm lane lined with Shagbark Hickories runs near the western boundary of the park.

A wonderful row of Shagbark Hickories (Carya ovata) line the western edge of the park. I love strolling along this dappled lane. The ground is  mostly firm underfoot and birds dart back and forth across the trail, forage along its edges and sing from the wetlands and fields off either side. Each spring I try to resist taking another photo of the large, almost rococo design of the Shagbark’s leaf buds. I failed to resist again this year.

The elegant design of an opening Shagbark Hickory leaf bud.

Ahead of me, I saw a Gray Catbird shoot across the trail and disappear. But as I got closer, I had the chance to watch it balancing on a twig over a large puddle to forage repeatedly for some kind of insects or larvae in the water. Once it had gathered a number of whatever it was, it jumped in for quick dip, ruffled its feathers and took off again.

A Gray Catbird foraging for insects or insect larvae in a large puddle next to the Hickory Lane.

Wild Geranium blossoms (Geranium maculatum) added dashes of lavender along the shady lane – some still in perfect form, others having served as a meal for the larvae of some hungry insect. A little damage to a blossom or leaf can mean a well-fed caterpillar to nourish a hungry baby bird. So holes here and there on plants are fine with me!

Two other native wildflowers graced the shade of the Hickory Lane. A cold snap had just ended, so the Trillium (Trillium grandiflorum) looked a bit beyond its peak bloomBut the buds of Solomon Seal (Polygonatum biflorum) had just formed beneath its leaves when I lifted its stem for a peek.

An adult Eastern Chipmunk (Tamias striatus) zipped across the path and froze when it saw me. I snapped my photo of the crouching little critter and waited. It dashed off and disappeared down a hole.

An adult chipmunk who’d taken its  young out on a foraging expedition.

Just as I lowered my camera, three baby chipmunks came tumbling onto the path, jostling each other as they raced after their parent and dove down the same hole. I wish I’d been fast enough to get you a photo of the babies, but alas, no. But I’ll include below one of my favorite baby chipmunk photos taken at home a few years ago.

A baby chipmunk about the size of the three I saw dash into a hole on the Hickory Lane at Cranberry Lake Park

Several metallic green Six-spotted Tiger Beetles (Cicindela sexguttata) darted down onto the path under the hickories. They can commonly be found in patches of sunlight at the edge of wooded areas. Despite their ferocious name and appearance, they don’t bite humans unless we handle them, and even then it’s an unnoticeably mild pinch, according to Wikipedia. Small caterpillars, ants and spiders, though, find them ferocious predators!

The Six-spotted Tiger Beetle is iridescent green with six white spots around the bottom edge of its abdomen.

On the Trail to the Lake Accompanied By Birdsong and an Amphibian Chorus

In the center of the park, several trails converge in a small meadow.  The one that heads out from the Hickory Lane and east to the lake was my choice. In the short video below taken on a glorious May morning, I spun around slowly where the trails converge, trying to record the bright blue sky, the fresh greenery and the birdsong soundtrack that was making me smile.

The background music was partially provided by a robust male Rose-breasted Grosbeak (Pheucticus ludovicianus) singing his lyrical song that is similar to the Robin, but a bit sweeter. I wondered if he was establishing territory because I’d seen an older male singing nearby a few days before. I’m betting that the younger male’s elegant pink ascot and vocal ability won him the territory and a mate – unless experience counts with Grosbeak females. The older male looked like he’d seen a few seasons, but he was a vigorous singer as well!  [Correction!  The bird on the right is actually a male juvenile who has not yet finished molting into fully adult male plumage!  The telling field mark is the white eyeline and white feathers at the neck.   And the one the left is in his second or older year!   Thanks to Ruth Glass, local birding authority, who set me straight on this!   I’m learning all the time from readers of the blog!]

Near a wetland on the north side of the lake trail, I heard a quick song that I didn’t recognize. Ah! I spotted a small, bright yellow bird with a black mask and a fancy black necklace – the Magnolia Warbler (Setophaga magnolia). I actually heard two of these warblers on the way to the lake, but only one stopped hopping from limb to limb long enough to show me how beautiful he was. He’ll nest farther north in dense forests of spruce or hemlock.

The Magnolia Warbler actually nests in conifers and spends winters in the American south.

Deep within the shrubbery of every  moist area along this trail, I could hear the “witchedy witchedy” call of the Common Yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas), but I have yet to see one this spring! I waited, watched, but no luck. I’m sure I’ll catch sight of one before long since Yellowthroats raise their young here. But for now here’s an earlier photo of another lovely masked bandit. I think he throws his head back farther than any other bird that I’ve seen – and his whole body vibrates with the song!

A Common Yellowthroat singing “witchedy, witchedy, witchedy” from a shrub near a wetland.

Warblers are challenging subjects for us amateur photographers. They’re tiny, they rarely stop to pose and they arrive when the trees are leafing out! So I was happy to catch a quick photo of a Black-and-white Warbler (Mniotilta varia) as he busily spiraled around a trunk near the lake. It’s easy to mistake this little bird for a White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis) or even a Brown Creeper (Certhia americana) as they circumnavigate trees. Theoretically, this little warbler breeds here, but I’ve only managed to spot one during spring migrations.

A Black-and-white Warbler spirals around a tree searching for insects with its slightly curved beak.

As I approached the lake, I heard an amazing chorus of amphibians singing.  It wasn’t any frog song that I recognized,  so I was puzzled. Eventually, a herpetology authority, David Mifsud of the Michigan Herp Atlas, helped me out. I hadn’t recognized the mating calls of the American Toad (Anaxyrus americanus)!

American toads were chorusing their mating song in Cranberry Lake.

I come across single toads in the park periodically, as I did with the Toad above last year at Bear Creek Nature Park. But I’d never before been in the audience as they sing for the females! The water out at the edge of the lake was rippling with their activity. Straining for a sighting, all I could see was a periodic flash of what appeared to be white skin thrust out of the water. I still don’t know if I was seeing toads mating or a fish catching a mouthful of courting toad!

The song was mesmerizing as one toad started the swelling sound, followed by others, until the trills died down. And then after a brief pause,  another round began. It reminded me of the buzz of cicadas on a summer day. Listen!

In the shade at the edge of the lake,  some Ostrich Ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) emerged from the moist earth and were unfolding from their parchment-like covers.  Ferns seem almost other-worldly to me, since,  like mosses, they are ancient. Fossil forms of early ferns appeared on earth almost 400 million years ago, long before dinosaurs roamed the earth about 200 million years later! Look at the brown cauls that cover the Ostrich Fern before it opens and then its unfurling green stem with a deep U-shaped groove, a hallmark of this native fern.

Ostrich Ferns unwrap from their brown coverings as they emerge.

You can see why they are also called “Fiddlehead Ferns,” can’t you? And here were a few a bit farther along in their growth. When the sun shines on their unfurling fronds, they just glow!

One Last Encouraging Song to Carry Home

A wet, somewhat battered Northern Cardinal singing with abandon

Since I knew the alternate trails would be too wet to traverse, I re-traced my steps back up the trail, down the Hickory Lane and out to the road. When I entered the parking lot, I was greeted by the cheerful whistle and “cheerups” of a Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) who’d seen better days. After some rainy, cold nights and perhaps an itchy case of mites, he seemed to be having the avian equivalent of a tough day. Despite that, his song was as upbeat and vigorous as ever. I listen entranced and never thought to record him, but luckily I had recorded another male singing the Cardinal’s ebullient spring song back in April.

I stood quietly and just listened to him for a few minutes before I left. And in these difficult days when grief, fear, and anger move in waves across our world, a battered bird still sang. It felt like a model I should try to follow. No matter what life throws at you, that scarlet messenger seemed to say, sing on! I mean to try. I hope you do, too.

Cranberry Lake Park: Have Hope! Sure but Subtle Signs of Spring!

The solstice has passed; the days and nights get equal time. But when I’m shivering, my fingers and ears go numb in a stiff  wind, I struggle to hold on to the idea that we’re heading into spring. Until, that is, I head into the parks.

Blog by Cam Mannino

In mid-March,  water birds began splashing down in Cranberry Lake, finding any narrow stretch of open water within the ice sheet. They floated and fed – until one glorious morning, the whole lake turned liquid and bright blue! Migrating flocks honked, chattered and wheeled overhead. Some stopped to rest and feed before heading further north; others explored nesting sites. Our year ’round residents tuned up their spring songs. Territories must be established! Potential mates must be impressed! Best of all, the tiny frogs thawed after their frozen winter state – and now they are  singing! Can genuine spring, with its fulsome birdsong and burgeoning buds be far behind? I think not!

Water Birds Arrive Early, Despite the Ice – and the Muskrats Emerge, too!

It always impresses me that some of the first migrators to arrive in early spring are the water birds! They float, seemingly content, in the icy cracks that form as the sun begins to work on the frozen lake surface. Their cold water strategies involve body fat, oiled feathers, down insulation, and a circulation system which allows cool blood coming up from their feet to pass close to  warm blood traveling down, warming it as it returns to the heart. Below a group of Common Mergansers – black-headed males and brown-headed females –  glided along a thin channel of water on the far side of Cranberry Lake’s iced-over surface.

Common Mergansers – black-headed males, brown-headed females – find a small slit of open water at Cranberry Lake early in March.

Off in the distance, the Wednesday birders spotted the hunched silhouette of a Muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus) perched on the edge of the ice as a goose floated nearby. It slipped in and out of the water, hungry no doubt for food but also for a meager scrap of sunlight after living under the ice all winter!

Two sunny but cold days later, the ice had disappeared and the lake was bright blue and busy with migrating ducks and geese. Two Bufflehead (Bucephala albeola) and a group of Ring-necked Ducks (Aythya collaris)black-and-white males and brown females –   dove and surfaced as they foraged near a Canada Goose (Branta canadensis).

A group of Ring-necked Ducks and two Bufflehead dove and rose next to a Canada Goose as they rested and foraged in the lake.

I got a bit closer to a Bufflehead by checking from the opposite side of the lake. This lone male rocked along on the surface, bobbing under to feed every few minutes. Cornell Lab of Ornithology says Bufflehead accomplish this dive  by compressing their feathers to drive out the air and then pitching forward. A few seconds later, they pop to the surface like a cork and float on.

The Bufflehead dives underwater by pitching forward with its feathers compressed to squeeze out the air, making it less buoyant and able to submerge.

And that same cold morning, what I think was a large muskrat came steaming across the pond toward the eastern side. At the time, I thought this bustling swimmer was a Beaver (Castor canadensis), since there is a large beaver lodge on the western side of the lake. But I’m just not sure of that, so I’m sticking with it being a large muskrat. In the water, its tail looked wide enough to be a beaver, but as it approached the shore, it just didn’t seem to be big enough to be a beaver, unless it was a yearling. And beavers tend to swim with only their heads out of the water. In any case, nice to see this furry fellow plying the pond in the sunshine. What do you think? Big muskrat or young beaver?

The width of this swimmer’s tail made me think this was a beaver, but I think now it was a large muskrat.
From this nearing shore photo, it appears I’ve seen a large muskrat, rather than a small beaver.

Hearing the ancient bugle of the Sandhill Crane (Antigone canadensis), I quickly looked up to see two in the distance, flying into the far end of the lake.  Aren’t we lucky that they breed in our wetlands?

A pair of Sandhill Cranes fly in to check out the edge of Cranberry Lake as a possible breeding ground.

 Spring Songs Signal the Beginning of the Mating Season

As I approached the park one icy afternoon, bright spring music reached my ear – Western Chorus Frogs. These tiny frogs (Pseudacris triseriata – about 1.5 inches long!) are daytime relatives of the nocturnal Spring Peepers (Pseudacris crucifer). They spent the winter frozen solid, no heartbeat, no brain activity, but protected by an anti-freeze of sorts that keeps their tissues from breaking down. Pretty amazing! They thaw out and start singing as the days lengthen. The first afternoon I scanned a wetland trying to see these tiny creatures that seemed to be singing right at my feet, but I could not spot one! So on a second try a few days later, I found a log to sit on near the wetland in the trees just east of the parking lot. After about 20 minutes with my binoculars, I finally spotted two (of the hundreds that were probably there!), the sacks beneath their chins bulging, as they tried to impress a female with their piercing calls. Have a look and a listen!

Two tiny Chorus Frogs with bulging necks sing to attract a mate in the shallow water of a wetland.

A male Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) sang from the tree tops in the eastern meadow, turning every few minutes to send his territory call in a new direction. He’s a bit faint on the recording below, so you might need to turn your volume up! I got a bit closer to another male in a bush near the parking lot later on. He was doing “call and response” with another cardinal hidden in the trees nearby.

And of course, the American Robins (Turdus migratorius) that went south to Ohio and Kentucky returned as well, joining the hardy ones that spent the winter here.

One of many Robins that have returned from Ohio and Kentucky to breed here in the summer.

His spring call is also a bit soft.  And he makes a longish pause before his second “tit whoo” call.

Woodpeckers, of course, use drumming to establish territories, rather than singing.  Both male and female Downy Woodpeckers (Picoides pubescens) attract mates and protect territories with drumming. You can hear their typical drum roll in this Cornell Lab recording which was put to use by the little female Downy below.

I get a huge kick out of hearing flocks of American Goldfinches (Spinus tristis) chirp in the shrubs and small trees. To my ear, they are the only bird that actually says “tweet, tweet, tweet!”  Have a listen at this link and see if you agree! The males are currently molting into their bright yellow summer outfits.

Groups of American Goldfinches are singing their “tweet, tweet” calls in Cranberry Lake Park right now.

On a bird walk one Wednesday, we heard the far distant, insistent drumming of a Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus). Mark, one of the great spotters in the bird group, finally located it with binoculars on a very distant tree, and suddenly its mate (we assumed) dove across the trail far ahead of us before slipping up and away between the trees. No chance for a photo.  But here’s an incredible closeup by talented photographer Monica Krancevic at iNaturalist.org.

Pileated Woodpecker by Monica Krancevic (CC BY-NC) at iNaturalist.org

The First Blooms and Some Sturdy Ferns Wait Patiently

The lovely red blossoms of the Silver Maple (Acer saccharinum) brighten gray days in early spring. They emerge on bare branches before the leaves and are pollinated by the wind before butterflies or other insects emerge and start to pollinate. Those big clusters of scarlet florets are a great food source for hungry squirrels in the spring, when food is scarce, since nuts and seeds are either already eaten or beginning to crack open and sprout.  Last week, I found these male (staminate) clusters fallen from the treetops onto the exposed roots of a large silver maple. I love how the red at the edge of the root echoes the red of the flowers.

The scarlet blossoms of a silver maple are echoed in the root of the tree itself.

Take a closer look at this cluster of florets, some still closed, others waving stamens that have already shed their pollen to wind.  Once pollinated, the female florets will produce winged fruits, called samaras.

A closeup of a cluster of male florets, some closed, some with their stamens already emptied of pollen.

Nearby on the trail to the lake, some sturdy ferns survived the winter with fertile fronds intact.  The brown beads below are the sporangia on the fertile fronds of the Sensitive Fern (Onoclea sensibilis) that carry the spores for this year’s crop of new plants. On the right, are the vegetative fronds that provide sugars through photosynthesis in the summer months.

And the feathery ones below left are the fertile fronds of Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris) whose spores will be released and carried by the wind in the spring. Their vegetative fronds on the right stood tall and bright green, taking advantage of the moist soil and spotty sunshine in the forest.

Spring Just Peeks Out…Here and There

A pair of Canada Geese rest in the quiet refuge of a shaded wetland

Behind a scrim of small trees on the way to the lake, I spotted these two Canada Geese floating serenely in a secluded wetland, away from the noisy flocks gathering on the lake. They reminded me that, at this time of year, spring has to be sought out. It appears and disappears. One day the lake is iced over, a few days later it’s rippling and blue and then the snow falls again. On some days, spring isn’t easily seen – just a few red blossom clusters floating in a vernal pool  or scattered on the lifeless grass. Sometimes spring can only be heard and not seen. Frogs as tiny as your thumb sing unseen one day and the next, perch on a bit of floating grass, their throats bulging with amorous sound. Flocks twitter or honk high in a cold blue sky or male birds rehearse the first tentative versions of their mating songs. Woodpeckers tap out a seductive rhythm on the bark of trees.

The Eastern Meadow at Cranberry Lake doesn’t look very spring-like yet – but the clues are there.

Early spring isn’t flamboyant and colorful, like it will be in a few weeks. It’s hesitant, waiting to be found and enjoyed if we can only slow down enough. If we watch, we’ll see it peeking through the alternating rain or snowfall, cracking and opening in thawing ponds or hear it whistling, chirping, trilling from inside the brush or high in the treetops. So I hope you have time to delight in these  subtle hints of early spring as they unfold. It won’t be long now…

Footnote: My sources for information, besides Oakland Township's Stewardship Manager Ben VanderWeide, are as follows: Caterpillars of Eastern North America by David L. Wagner; inaturalist.org;Allaboutbirds.org, the website of the Cornell Ornithology Lab at Cornell University; Wikipedia; Herbarium of the University of Michigan at michiganflora.net; various Michigan Field Guides by Stan Tekiela;Butterflies of Michigan Field Guide by Jaret C. Daniels,  and others as cited in the text.