Tag Archives: Swamp Sparrow

Birds, Butterflies, A Few Blossoms and Basking Turtles: Circling the Eastern Side of Draper Twin Lake Park

Looking from the south side of Draper marsh toward the northern prairie.

The eastern side of Draper Twin Lake Park grows more inviting every year. Some of the former farm fields there had been abandoned for decades when Oakland Township Parks and Recreation acquired the property in 2005. Dense thickets of invasive shrubs crowded the shores of the marsh and began to spread within what had been a rolling prairie and oak savanna landscape in the centuries before European settlement.

But restoration is slowly changing this somewhat scruffy park back to its former beauty.  After forestry mowing, the trail by the marsh, once choked with stands of non-native shrubs, now provides open vistas.

The trail on the west side of the floating marsh is now cleared of invasive shrubs so that a stand of native White Pines (Pinus strobus) and other trees can be appreciated.

The dark water of the marsh sparkles between the scrim of trees and shrubs that surround its shores. The roots of grasses and shrubs form a floating mat at the heart of the marsh, creating nest sites for birds large and small. Migrating birds flit through the trees at the marsh edge singing spring songs. Some settle in to mate, nest and raise young; others simply forage, rest and move on.

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Photos and text by Cam Mannino

On warm days in the northern prairie, tiny spring butterflies dart and dance within the dry stalks of last year’s prairie wildflowers and grasses, while the shimmering blue wings of Tree Swallows soar and dip above them. By mid-summer, fresh prairie grasses will sway above fields mixed with the bright colors of native wildflowers and big beautiful butterflies. But even a cool spring day can be beguiling.

So just for a few minutes, escape with me. Muster your imagination as we explore Draper Twin Lake Park together. Listen to a brisk breeze hushing in your ears and feel warm sun on your shoulders as I take a turn around the marsh and then circle the field on the prairie trail loop on a bright spring morning.

In the  Spring, the Marsh is the Place to See and Be Seen!

DTLP_TrailMap
My Draper Twin Lake Park hiking route

Wetlands mean wildlife in every one of our parks. After parking at the building at 1181 Inwood Road, I headed left, leaving the path to enter the trees that shelter the south edge of the floating mat marsh, pictured at the top of the blog.

The clarion “wika wika” call of Northern Flickers (Colaptes auratus) throbbed overhead as these elegant woodpeckers whisked back and forth in the treetops, competing for mates and territory. This mustached male and his mate will spend the summer with us, nesting in a tree cavity, but foraging on the ground, unlike other woodpeckers; ants are a favored meal for flickers.

A male Northern Flicker challenging other males with his “wika wika” call

A pudgy, green-gray bird hopped about within a tangle of vines, repeatedly flicking its wings and only pausing for a few seconds each time it jumped to a new twig. The male Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) was enjoying a bit of R&R before flying north, possibly as far as Hudson’s Bay. Imagine! On those tiny wings! There its mate can lay 5-12 eggs in a 4 inch nest woven with grasses, feathers, moss, cocoon or spider silk and lined with finer grass and fur. Never underestimate the little Kinglet!

My photo was a bit blurred by movement in a heavy wind, but bird enthusiasts and excellent photographers, Bob Bonin and his wife Joan, also visited Draper in the last two weeks. In fact, we chatted from a safe social distance when we came across each other at the park.  They generously offered to share some of the photos they took at Draper. So here’s Bob’s rare shot of an excited little male with his crown raised! Thanks for the loan, Bob!

An excited male Ruby-crowned Kinglet with his crest raised – a rare sight to see with this busy little bird. Photo by Bob Bonin with permission.

Joan shared two other migrating birds she saw on the east side of Draper. The Black-throated Green Warbler (Setophaga virens) sports such dramatic plumage! It has two versions of its song that has a lot of buzz and a smaller bit of  “tweet” in it. One song is directed at competing males and the other is used to attract females. Find an explanation of both, a video and some recordings here at Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s website.

The Black-throated Green Warbler doesn’t come to feeders and breeds a bit farther north of us and farther into Canada. So it’s a treat to see one! Photo by Joan Bonin.

Joan also provided us with a lovely photo of a Hermit Thrush (Catharus guttatus) at Draper. Cornell Lab reports that this modest little milk chocolate bird with the spotted breast utilizes “foot quivers,” when foraging, shaking its feet in the grass to stir up insects. I will watch for that the next time I see one!

Hermit Thrushes breed north of us where its flute-like call is more likely to be heard. Photo by Joan Bonin.

A pair of Palm Warblers (Setophaga palmarum) skittered around me within the low bushes at the marsh. Traveling from the Caribbean to Canada, they were hungry. Their tails wagged up and down as they grazed along the ground for insects. This one thought it might have spotted something interesting in the crevices of tree bark. Note the brown crown, yellow eyeline, throat and the yellow under its tail.

According to Cornell Lab of Ornithology, ninety-eight percent of all Palm Warblers and thousands of other species breed in the boreal forests of northern Canada, an essential ecosystem!

Looking north, I spotted something large in the trees at the far north end of the marsh. For the second time this spring, I got a distant look at a Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) surveying the landscape. I’m so used to seeing these birds wading at the edges of ponds. It always delights me to see them perching high up in a tree, though I know their big, flat nests are always situated at the top of high trees in their rookeries.

A Great Blue Heron looking out from the treetops at the far north end of Draper’s floating mat marsh.

As I moved to the west side of the marsh, I looked up into the frothy blossoms of one of my favorite native trees, the Serviceberry (Amelanchier interior).

The rippling petals of a Serviceberry in a spring wind.

This tree with its plumes of white blossoms in the early spring offers a native alternative to the non-native Callery/Bradford Pear trees (Pyrus calleryana) that flower at the same time. If shopping malls and housing developments bloomed with this native beauty each spring, the fields of our natural areas would not be invaded by groves of the invasive pears. We can hope for a change as the value of native plants is better understood by more landscapers.  Several stately serviceberry trees dot the early spring landscape at Draper Twin Lake Park. Aren’t these clouds of dancing white lovely in the sparseness of the spring landscape?

A native Serviceberry tree makes a perfect replacement for the invasive, non-native Callery/Bradford Pear.

In a shadowy pool beneath low branches on the west shore of the floating mat marsh, some movement caught my eye. A Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana) dipped its head into the water while balancing on stick, probably plucking insect larvae or small invertebrates  out of the dark water. Fortunately this sparrow is equipped with long legs for wading and doesn’t mind the cold water, if this sopping-wet bird is any indication!

This swamp sparrow stuck its head under water while fishing for insect larvae or tiny invertebrates.

Out at the edge of the floating mat, a pair of Midland Painted Turtles (Chrysemys picta marginata) warmed their shells in faint spring sunlight. Perhaps these two will mate or perhaps they’re just basking together. These two larger turtles could be quite old; Midland Painted Turtles sometimes live over 50 years!

Our Midland Painted Turtles can mate in the spring or fall.

The “boing!” call of a Green Frog (Lithobates climatans) surprised me, so I approached to search the water until I spotted this one. Since the round ear drum or tympanum is about same size as its eye, this is a female Green frog. She may have jumped the gun a bit with the changeable spring weather. Normally, Green Frogs don’t wake from their winter somnolence until the temperature reaches 50 degrees and they don’t mate until the weather is consistently warm. So this female may need to bide her time even though there was a male singing somewhere nearby.

The skin of Green Frogs darkens on cold days so they can soak up more sun.

Back out along the trail on the west side of the marsh, I met a turtle with a ferocious visage, a snout for snorkeling air from under water and an intimidating set of claws! Here’s the steely glare of this master predator, the Common Snapping Turtle (Chelydra serpentina).

This Snapper must have emerged from the mud before heading out to look for companionship.

I’m kidding really. Yes, it did look fierce, but I was being stared down by a small Snapper maybe 8 inches long who probably was just curious.

This small snapper may not yet be mature enough to mate.

I have no idea of its age or what it was doing on trail. According to Wikipedia, a snapper can take 15-20 years to reach sexual maturity and mating is usually done while tumbling about in the  water. So unless this one is older than it looks and was looking for a place to lay eggs, it may have just decided to go on walkabout. Snappers sometimes move great distances to find less crowded habitat, as well as to lay eggs. After all, that carapace, an extremely long neck, powerful jaws and claws are pretty good protection for an adventurous young snapper.

As I stood at the north end of the floating mat marsh, a Green Heron (Butorides virescens) flew swiftly back and forth across the pond. Its yellowish-orange feet trailed behind its bulky body as it landed in the vegetation around the shore. Luckily, Joan later spotted one out in the open in the southeast section of the marsh. One way to spot this colorful bird is to listen for its distinctive “skeow” call;  listen here under the first “calls” recording. That’s the Green Heron sound with which I’m most familiar.

A Green Heron at Draper Twin Lake Park. Photo by Joan Bonin.

Her husband, Bob, saw a bird that I’d never come across before – and neither had Bob.  The Northern Waterthrush (Parkesia noveboracensis) loves wetlands and according to Cornell Lab of Ornithology, will even settle for a puddle if it’s near cover. It was migrating through on its way from the Caribbean to its breeding grounds in northern Canada. Bob went back to look for it again the next day, but it never appeared. I feel lucky that it “popped out of cover,” as Bob put it, at just the right moment for him to take his photo!

A rare photo of a Northern Waterthrush at Draper Twin Lake Park taken by Bob Bonin.

When I reached the southeast corner myself, a pair of Sandhill Cranes, heads down, were calmly feeding on the floating mat, looking up once a while, and then back to feeding again

This pair of Sandhill Cranes might consider the floating mat a good place for a nest since the marsh creates a kind of moat! Sandhills have nested here before.

As my camera zoomed in on that startling orange eye beneath the crimson cap on one of these huge birds, I hoped that they would choose to nest there as Sandhills did a few years ago. I’d love to see a “colt,” as their fledglings are called, join its parents at the Draper marsh.

A closer look at one of the Sandhill Cranes

That southeast corner of the marsh is full of turtles. I know that Blanding’s Turtles (Emydoidea blandingii) live at Draper Twin Lake Park because I once helped one across the road outside of the park and Donna, the Draper bluebird monitor, has seen them, too. Last week, I thought I saw their slightly domed shells deep in the grass at the southeast corner of the marsh, but they never raised their heads. But Joan Bonin and her very long lens caught this wonderful closeup of one! Thank you, Joan!

Joan Bonin’s wonderful photo caught the yellow throat perfectly, the distinctive field mark of the Blanding’s Turtle.

As I was looking for the Blanding’s turtle,  I noticed a dark lump laying in the water behind a mud flat in the marsh. Could it be? Was that a neck stretched out to gather some sun? I think what I saw was a large Snapper, its neck partially extended along the mud flat, camouflaged as just another black lump in the landscape. Look for its pointed head and eye to the right in the grass. That looks like a large snapper to me!

A large snapper masquerading as just another lump of mud in the Draper Marsh.

Some small upland birds share the southeast corner with turtles and herons. One dark, windy day, my husband and I caught sight of a Yellow-rumped Warbler (Setophaga coronata) and identified it from its characteristic yellow patch above the tail. It appeared to be the more modestly dressed female. Here are the photos I got from a distance 10 days ago and a much better one from 2015.

On a snag near the edge of the trees, a House Wren (Troglodytes aedon) ignored me completely while he belted out his wonderful, bubbling trill. According to Cornell Lab of Ornithology, their sharp, fizzy song sallies forth from Canada, through the West Indies, all the way to the tip of South America.

A House Wren, beak wide-open in full song.

The distinctively sweet “tweeting” of an American Goldfinch (Spinus tristis) caused me to look up at this little splash of bright sunlight on a cloudy day. The males have donned their brightest colors and execute their rolling flight all over Draper.

A male American Goldfinch posed quite calmly near the southeast edge of the marsh.

On to the North Prairie!

Volunteer Donna Perkins has already found bluebird eggs in two of her boxes within the prairie!

Volunteer nest box monitors like Donna Perkins above are citizen scientists who are gathering data on which birds nest in the boxes, how many eggs they lay, how many days pass before hatching and fledging and how many little birds successfully leave the nest. Donna found six Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) eggs in two of her boxes. And along the prairie’s edge, male and female bluebirds surveyed the area, keeping an eye on their nests.

Don’t worry if you find a nest with eggs in your yard with no adult around. Birds take time off to forage and if scared off of their nest, will usually return. But most often, once the last egg has been laid, the adult will start incubating them most of the day, which helps ensure that they all hatch at the same time, making it easier to care for them.

Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor) move into our township nest boxes as well. Usually, Eastern Bluebirds and Tree Swallows will live in a neighborly way when their boxes are near each other, though occasionally there’s competition for a preferred box. Neither species, however, will tolerate another member of their own species moving nearby. So right now, the Tree Swallows are beginning to construct their nests with a mixture of grasses carefully lined with feathers. What a sight to see these shining blue beauties swooping over the field, periodically opening their beaks to snag passing insects. Joan Bonin got a fabulous shot of two of them in flight over the Draper prairie – an exciting and rare shot! Congratulations and thanks to Joan for sharing it.

Tree Swallows in flight above the Draper prairie. Photo by Joan Bonin.

A clear song rippled out from the tree line to our right. So loud! What was that? We finally located the rear end of a male Eastern Towhee (Pipilo erythrophthalmus) facing out of the park to the east. In the distance, we could hear his competitor singing as well.  Establishing territory is serious business, so our Towhee in the park never budged an inch, though we waited for almost 20 minutes, listening but frustrated that he kept his back turned. So the photo below was taken last year at Draper. This year’s towhee sang his “drink your teeeeeea” song much more slowly than usual, so it took longer to identify it. Maybe the song had more emphasis that way for the male in the distance!

An Eastern Towhee singing from a snag at Draper in 2019.

We came across, though, a sad sight on the prairie – an injured Nashville Warbler (Leiothlypis ruficapilla) feeding on a path but unable to take flight. It appeared right in front of us and at first I thought it had an injured wing. But when it turned its head, its eye was swollen shut. When I asked local birding expert, Ruth Glass, she said that it had probably hit its head on a window. When that happens, the brain can swell and they lose their ability to orient themselves. It was foraging on the ground and fluttered off into the tall grass. I include this just to ask that you do what you can to prevent such window collisions. Here’s a link from Cornell to get you started.

On a happier note, some small spring butterflies floated and fluttered near the prairie trails. I always wonder what criteria make them settle on one stem rather than another; much of their frantic fluttering seems aimless, but I doubt that it really is. I clearly don’t see what they do!

An orange flash in the grass made me think I was seeing my first Pearl Crescent, a common sight on summer days in our parks. But this mid-sized butterfly was an Eastern Comma (Polygonia comma). The upper (dorsal) side of both its forewings and hindwings are tawny orange with black spots. It was born last fall and is referred to as the “winter form”; it overwintered as an adult and will now mate and lay eggs. The caterpillars from those eggs will hatch around the Summer Solstice (June 21) and the offspring from that generation (referred to as the “summer form”) will still have orange forewings, but their hindwings will be much darker than this one.

An Eastern Comma sipping on an open dandelion bloom. It wintered over and will now seek a mate!

But look at the underside of this butterfly’s wings! The winter form Eastern Comma spends the cold months under tree bark or inside logs; that mottled brown design does a nice job of camouflage while they are hibernating, I would imagine.

The pattern on the underside of the Eastern Comma’s wings camouflages it during hibernation under tree bark.

A female Cabbage Butterfly (Pieris rapae) paused to sip at a dandelion, just as the Eastern Comma did. One good reason not to remove dandelions from your lawn in early spring is that native bees and butterflies benefit from the nectar of this non-native flower when few other blossoms are available. Male Cabbage Butterflies have one spot on their forewings; females have two.

A female Cabbage Butterfly benefits from the presence of dandelions.

A flash of lavender blue appeared in the grass – a Spring Azure (Celastrina ladon)! This little insect is only as big as your thumbnail. Its host plants (the ones on which it will lay eggs) include Wild Cherry, Flowering Dogwood, Gray Dogwood and Blueberries. This one didn’t stop long enough for anything but a photo of a blurry smudge of blue. So here’s the best photo I’ve ever gotten of one – only because it made the rare move of posing for a moment! If you see a blue blur flying by during July through September, that’s the Summer Azure (Celastrina neglecta), a different species.

The blue open wings of the tiny Spring Azure butterfly in a photo from 2015.

A surprise on the prairie was a Carolina Locust (Dissosteira carolina). I’ve never seen one this early in the year! Could it have rushed the season like the Green Frog? Usually the nymphs arrive when the weather is much warmer and this one appeared to have its wings which would indicate that it’s an adult. So I’m puzzled. Normally I would send this photo  to Dr. Gary Parsons, an insect specialist as Michigan State University – but I believe the university is closed during the pandemic. So if any reader has more information than I, please leave a comment to that effect. I love its beady eyes, but wonder if it survived the cold nights that followed.

The nymph of a Carolina Locust that hatched a bit earlier than it probably should have.

Restoring Complex, Nourishing, Chaotic Beauty

Draper Marsh, looking south toward Inwood Road

Farm fields can be so lovely in spring – neat rows of green as far as the eye can see taking the shape of a field’s rolling contours. But as I’ve watched the stewardship crew recreate the natural landscapes in our parks, I’ve come to love even more the glorious chaos of wild natural areas. Here at the eastern section of Draper Twin Lake Park, the fields of last year’s stalks once again host nesting Bluebirds and Tree Swallows, looking like shining bits of sky taking up residence in our midst. Turtles safely sally forth from the marsh mud to mate and warm their chilled shells in the pale spring sunlight. The dark water around the floating marsh hosts frogs, several jousting Red-winged Blackbird couples, and those ancient and elegant cranes. Weary avian travelers find respite, nourishment and for some, a place to raise their young. As years of invasive overgrowth are cleared, the old farm fields bloom with a rich array of native trees, grasses and wildflowers. Once again the marsh and the prairies take up their ancient role of providing shelter and nourishment to a whole and healthy community of wildness.  During this difficult time, restoration comforts and delights me – and many of you, too, I believe, since new visitors have recently explored our parks. Thanks for accompanying me, even at such a great social distance.

OUT AND ABOUT IN OAKLAND: November’s Austere Beauty at Draper Twin Lake Park

Trees on Prairie Draper
Autumn color lined the prairie restoration at Draper Twin Lake Park in late October
Cam walking into BC
Blog and photos by Cam Mannino

My last blog on Draper Twin Lake Park was in April. So I thought it was high time to return there to share how its lake, wetlands and prairie transform in autumn. I began the first week in November, just before the first hard frost,  and ended in the cold, gray days before Thanksgiving. Autumn brings such dramatic changes. Brilliant leaves, hardy fall flowers, migrating birds and insects give way to  winter birds and the quiet, brown-and-gray austerity of November.

In the April blog, I explained, with a map, the three sections of Draper – the western lake section, the central large marsh that separates the two hiking areas, and the eastern marsh/prairie section. You can refresh you memory at this link, if you like. So join me for a series of  virtual  hikes in this unusual tripartite park to watch nature hunkering down for winter.

The Western Trail to Draper Twin Lake: Early November

Sunset Draper Lake
Draper Twin Lake in early November

As you can see above, the lake was beautifully calm one early November afternoon. An angler at the fishing dock that day shared his excitement from the previous day when he’d caught a 25 inch Largemouth Bass (Micropterus salmoides) there.  In the photo above, you can see the water circles made by something surfacing and by the angler’s line in the water, but luck wasn’t with him that afternoon.

In the distance, a pair of Mute Swans (Cygnus olor) floated peacefully along the far shore, apparently unconcerned about the angler and his line.

Swans across Draper Lake
Mute Swans across Draper Lake

The grace of these non-native birds is irresistible, but how I wish I could see native Trumpeter Swans (Cygnus buccinator) in our township parks. In childhood, I saw one on a pond near Orion Road, but they aren’t common. The more aggressive Mute Swans have affected their numbers by commanding the prime nesting sites. And native trumpeter swans were almost wiped out in the 19th century by two forces –  the fashion industry that coveted their feathers and the hunting of muskrats and beavers whose lodges made dry nesting places for native swans then as they do for Canada Geese today.

In the water alongside the dock, a few fruits of the Swamp Rose (Rosa palustris) remained on their dark stalks. I wish I’d experienced this native plant’s pink blossoms and sweet fragrance when it was in bloom.  (Here’s an Illinois Wildflowers link to a photo.) Aren’t the bright crimson spots of the rose hips pretty against the silvery dried grasses in the marsh?

Berries in marsh Draper
The rose hips of Swamp Rose in the water off the edge of the fishing deck

Some yellow and lavender leaves crowded the railing at the end of the dock near the shore. Ben VanderWeide, our Natural Areas Stewardship Manager, identified them as possibly the stems of a small Basswood tree. I wonder if the deer and rabbits that like to eat Basswood saplings during the winter will let this one grow. Basswood is fine-grained and soft so it’s often been used by whittlers to carve small objects like children’s toys.

Mystery plant draper 2
The autumn colors of a small Basswood tree near the edge of the lake

When I headed back to the western parking lot in early November, many of the autumn leaves along the trail were still russet and golden.

Trail from lake
Trees and bushes along the trail back to the parking lot were still leafed in russet and yellow.

One of the last insects of autumn, a Yellow-legged Meadowhawk/Autumn dragonfly, flitted down the trail, keeping me company as I headed back from the lake. Its clear wings with their brush of orange at the base, as well as its orange-red body provide good camouflage once it lands on a fallen leaf.

Yellow-legged Autumn Dragonfly Draper DTL
A Yellow-legged Meadowhawk/Autumn dragonfly almost disappears against a fallen leaf

After an afternoon shower, I saw a Bur Oak leaf (Quercus macrocarpa) along the trail beaded in silver raindrops.

Leaf with raindrops Draper
The leaf of a Bur Oak beaded after a rain.

On the way out of the parking lot, a cheerful “family” of Shaggy Mane mushrooms (Coprinus comatus) stood at attention at the edge of the parking lot.  The overnight appearance of mushrooms on autumn days  almost makes up for the thinning out of wildflowers.

Family of Shaggy Mane Mushrooms Draper Lake
A “family” of Shaggy Mane mushrooms at the edge of the Draper parking lot in early November

The Western Trail to the Lake:  Late November

A week or so later, I returned to the lake near sunset and the view had changed quite dramatically but was still very lovely.

Sunset at Draper marsh Late
Sunset at Draper Lake at sundown a bit later in the week

The Whorled/Swamp Loosestrife that surrounds the fishing dock had gone to seed. Ben identified this native wildflower for me and called it “a very nice plant to see in wetlands and around the margins of lakes.” It had purple blossoms in the summer and now made a graceful silhouettes against the autumn reflections in the lake.

 

mystery plant draper lake
Whorled/Swamp Loosestrife silhouetted against fall reflections in Draper Lake

The pointed male section at the top of Cat-tails (genus Typha) had fertilized the female “brown-suede” section below earlier in the summer. Now huge plumes shed their seeds at the edge of the dock in the rosy light of an autumn sunset.

Seeding cat-tail Draper
A seeding cat-tail at sunset

By late November, the pair of swans had probably departed for points south and one breezy afternoon, a trio of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) took their place on Draper Lake. They drifted with the wind, dipping their long necks below the surface periodically to feed on submerged vegetation.

3 Geese Drifting Draper
In late November, three Canada Geese drifted effortlessly down the pond, carried by the wind.

The Shaggy Mane mushroom family had disappeared, as mushrooms can do so suddenly and completely. But as I got back to the parking lot on my later visit, some orange mushrooms glowed in the distance on a dead branch. My best guess is that they are toxic Jack O’Lantern  mushrooms (Omphalotus illudens) which cluster on dead wood in the fall. But I’m no mushroom expert so feel free to correct me!

Orange mushroom closeup Draper
Possibly the toxic Jack O’Lantern mushroom which appears on dead wood in autumn

The Eastern Trail to the Marsh and Prairie:  Early November

Heading east from the lake section of the park, past the big marsh on the left, you reach a driveway near the crest of hill where a gray building and a small parking lot indicate you’ve reached the  the eastern section of Draper Twin Lake Park. As you head off down the trail on the left, in the distance you can see the big central marsh through the trees.

Central Marsh Draper
West side of Draper’s circular path with the central marsh in distance

In early November, a few fall wildflowers were still in bloom along this part of the trail. As I set off, I thought I saw a bee probing a blossom of a fall aster (genus Symphotrichum) but on closer inspection, it was one of many Hoverflies (family Syrphidae) that mimic the bee’s appearance, perhaps to ward off predators. Bees were noticeably absent.   Presumably non-native European Honeybees (Apis mellifera) had already retreated to their hives inside nearby trees and native Bumblebee queens (genus Bombus) were settling into their individual underground burrows.

Hover Fly on Daisy Fleabane Draper
A Hoverfly on a hardy stalk of a fall aster one early November day

Crawling into that blossom above is another insect that was new to me.  I got a clearer shot of the Spotted Cucumber Beetle (Diabrotica undecimpunctata) as I watched  the  Eastern Yellow Jacket (Vespula maculifrons) below foraging for nectar on a Showy Goldenrod (Solidago speciosa). The beetle’s lime green thorax, spotted abdomen and striped antennae make it look like a cartoon insect, but it’s a major pest for farmers. These bright green beetles attack a variety of crops, including cucumbers and soybeans, and their caterpillars (or larvae) drill down to eat the roots of young plants. Here at Draper, though, this one seemed to just be searching for food quite peaceably with its neighbors, the wasp and hoverfly.

Spotted Cucumber Beetle Yellow Jacket wasp DL
A Spotted Cucumber Beetle and a Yellow Jacket wasp share the last of the Showy Goldenrod

As you round that first curve in the trail, there’s a “floating mat” marsh to your right. In the center of this marsh is a tightly woven tangle of plants and roots with water running beneath it – and shrubs as well as individual plants thrive on this mat.

Draper Marsh from southeast
A view of Draper marsh which has a “floating mat” at its center

Before the first frost, Ben’s birding group was still seeing a few migrating sparrows on this path.  The White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis), which probably raised its young in Canada, was traveling to southern Ohio and beyond for the winter.  (Note the yellow “lores” at the corner of the eyes.)

white-throated-sparrow-1-of-1
A White-throated Sparrow on its way south from its breeding grounds in Canada

Ben’s group spotted a Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana) as well. It has longer legs than other sparrows so it can wade into water. It will actually put its whole head under the surface to fish out small invertebrates. It was on its way south, too.

Swamp sparrow
The Swamp Sparrow has longer legs than other sparrows so it can wade into the water to fish for small invertebrates.

After turning the corner at the north end of this path, you’ll see the prairie that’s being restored from an old farm field. When I went in early November, the trees along the edge were in full color.  (See the photo at the top of the blog.) In the prairie itself, some native plants were still blooming this fall. I was surprised to see Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) still turning their bright faces to the autumn sun.  Ben identified for me another native plant as White Vervain (Verbena articifolia) which produces tightly packed tiny white flowers in the summer.  The Blue Vervain (Verbena hastata) that  Ben planted on the prairie last fall will hopefully make an appearance next year.

A female Clouded Sulphur butterfly (Colias philodice) danced among the dry stems on the field, finally landing on a seeding Bull Thistle (Cirsium vulgare), trying to find a last sip of nectar before the first frost.

Clouded Sulphur female Draper Lake
This hardy little female Clouded Sulphur sought out a bit of late season nectar from a Bull Thistle

Nearby, a drab little Skipper (family Hesperiidae) that I was unable to identify had found the same plant for a last minute snack.

Moth on thistle Draper Lake
A Skipper butterfly seeks nectar from a Field Thistle

As I rounded the curve and headed back to the parking area, I heard a commotion in an adjoining field.  And suddenly a small tree was filled with dozens of European Starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) gathering for their migration. Such a gabble of sound and a fluttering of restless wings!

Starlings closeup Draper
Starlings fluttering about in a small tree

Eastern Trail:  Late November

By late November, most of the color had drained from the trees.  Around the marsh edges, the Poplars (genus Populus) created a crisp contrast to the russet leaves nearby.

Bare Birch Draper
Bare poplars create a sharp contrast with the russet leaves of autumn.

Poplars are plentiful in many of our township parks, while White Pines (Pinus strobus) are less frequent. These soft-needle, native pines were lumbered off from the late 18th through the early 20th century. The few very large white pines that remain in our township probably reflect where they were found historically, while the smaller white pines most likely spread from planted trees often used in landscaping. According to Wikipedia, White Pines produce new needles each spring which they shed about 18 months later in the fall, creating thick carpets on the ground beneath.

White Pine Needles autumn Draper Lake
White Pines produce new needles each spring and shed them 18 months later in the fall.

Just off the curve in the trail near the prairie, there’s a remarkable White Pine with seven trunks, five of which are full size!  I’ve never seen such a tall pine with multiple trunks. On the left is the base of the tree and on the right is my 5′ 11″ husband looking very small next to the height of this impressive tree – or should I say “trees?”

Birds migrating farther south no longer skittered from limb to limb.  Instead, our  tried-and-true, hardy, year ’round birds – Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata), Black-capped Chickadees (Poecile atricapillus) and Mourning Doves (Zenaida macroura) –  huddled in shrubs to avoid cold winds or basked on bare branches on sunnier days.

And there were the familiar migratory birds of the far north – the American Tree Sparrow (Spizelloides arborea) and the Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis) – who think Michigan is great place to spend the winter.

Bare Trees, Early Sunsets, and Acres of Quiet

Sunset Draper
Sunset at Draper Twin Lake’s eastern section

Autumn turns us inward, I think. The bustle and color of summer has quieted to more somber grays and browns. Windsong is changed by flowing through dry leaves and bare limbs. A woodpecker drills in the distance; a crow or a jay stridently announces your presence. Now that leaves are underfoot, the trees sleep down in their roots. Turtles and frogs drowse in torpor beneath the water surface. In autumn’s quiet depths, the natural world offers us a place to listen, watch, and maybe just…be. A welcome respite from the hurly-burly of our lives.

Footnote:  My sources for information,besides Oakland Township's Stewardship Manager Ben VanderWeide, are as follows: Ritland, D. B., & Brower, L. P. (1991); Stokes Nature Guides: A Guide to Bird Behavior Volumes 1-3, Allaboutbirds.org, the website of the Cornell Ornithology Lab at Cornell University; Wikipedia; http://www.butterfliesandmoths.org; 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; University of Wisconsin's Bug Lady at www4.uwm.edu/fieldstation/naturalhistory/bugoftheweek/ for insect info; http://www.migrationresearch.org/mbo/id/rbgr.html for migration info; invaluable wildflower identification from local expert, Maryann Whitman and the website www.illinoiswildflowers.info; experienced birder Ruth Glass, bird walk leader at Stoney Creek Metro Park for bird identification; Birds of North America Online; Audubon.org; Nature in Winter by Donald Stokes, Trees in My Forest by Bernd Heinrich, Winter World by Bernd Heinrich, Savannah River Ecology Lab (Univ of Georgia); Tortoise Trust website www.tortoisetrust.org;  An Orchard Invisible: A Natural History of Seeds by Jonathan Silvertown; The Ecology of Plants by Gurevitch, Scheiner and Fox; other sites as cited in the text.

THIS WEEK AT BEAR CREEK: Winter Prep, Migrants Coming and Going, Chilly Insects, Fall Leaves, and a New Native Garden

White goldenrod autumn

Autumn’s here and a bit gone, so winter prep begins in earnest at Bear Creek.  The hibernators are finding or freshening up snug housing for the winter.  Migrating birds stop for a rest and a repast before continuing their journeys, while others arrive to spend the winter with us.  A few hearty insects, who survived the migrating birds and the cold nights, hop and fly on warmer south-facing slopes. Leaves rustle underfoot and tumble past so the quest continues to learn their names, to be more familiar with the giants of the plant world.  Let’s start with a walk through the Oak-Hickory forest.

Animals Prep for Winter

Path through Oak-Hickory forest
The path from the Gunn Road entrance into the Oak-Hickory forest

One of this week’s highlights was discovering a North American Raccoon (Procyon lotor) in the same place I’ve seen them almost every spring or fall – in a huge hole in a white oak halfway down the eastern forest path. On my first walk this week, I could only see a bit of fur at the bottom of the hole, but that brought me back the next morning.  At first the hole appeared empty. Disappointed, I approached, crunching noisily through the leaves and surprise!  A raccoon was fully visible in the dark of the huge hole, staring intently at me while I took its photo.  What a treat to know that once more one of these clever bandits will spend the winter dozing in this cozy home with its ideal southern exposure.

Raccoon in hole edited 4
A raccoon returns my stare from a tree that has housed raccoons for many years

The chirping and dashing of chipmunks and squirrels will accompany your walk through our Oak-Hickory forest again this week.  They are  eating and storing acorns and other nuts for hibernation or winter meals.   Here’s an Eastern Chipmunk ((Tamias striatus) with a mouthful of leaves, evidently planning to refresh its burrow before its long sleep .  Chipmunks wake every few weeks in winter, eat  a bit from their food stores and snooze some more.

chipmunk w leaves
An Eastern Chipmunk seems to be freshening up its burrow in time for hibernation.

A scratching and scrabbling sound nearby alerted me to a  pair of Fox Squirrels (Sciurus niger) spiraling up a giant tree near the marsh.  Fox Squirrels mate between November and March and then again in the summer – so it may have been a practice mating chase.  Or perhaps just two young ones feeling their oats, or in this case, acorns!  One paused high above on a tree knot.  The other used its 180°-rotating ankles to stretch out lengthwise, head down on the trunk.  Fox Squirrels prefer winter dens within woodpecker holes, but if none are available, they will build leaf nests in the crotches of trees. They spend the winter days with us – as anyone with a bird feeder knows!

Down at the Pond, Out in the Fields: Migratory Visitors and a Couple of Hearty Insects

Center Pond in Autumn

When I reached the Center Pond this week (so clear this time of year!), I saw two migrants that I’d never seen before  busily flipping over leaves to search for insects in the muddy shadows of the southern shore – a male and female Rusty Blackbird (Euphagus carolinus).  Cornell lab calls this bird “relatively uncommon” because it is “one of North America’s most rapidly declining species.”  I hope this turns around because I was thrilled to see them on their trip from Canada’s far north to their southern destination.  My photo of the male in non-breeding plumage is below.  I didn’t get a decent shot of the female, who is gray-brown with a black stripe through the eye. This Cornell link has much better photos of both genders.

Rusty blackbird Center Pond
A quite uncommon, migrating Rusty Blackbird and his mate (not pictured) flipped over leaves, looking for insects at the Center Pond.

Up near the Playground Pond, I saw a recent arrival from Canada who’ll spend the winter with us – the Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis).  I’m sure you’ve seen flocks of them under your feeder in the winter.  Their black backs and white bellies make them look like Chinese calligraphy on white snow.

Dark-eyed Junco
A Dark-eyed Junco matched the black-and-white shadow pattern on the path west of the Playground Pond.

I’ve been posting photos of juvenile Cedar Waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum) for the last few weeks but this week I got a good look at a beautiful adult one.  Here you can see both the yellow tip of its tail and the bright red wing spots that evidently looked like sealing wax to the person who named this elegant bird.

Cedar Waxwing with waxwing showing
An adult Cedar Waxwing. Notice the red dots on its wings which looked like sealing wax to the person that named them.

I had an opportunity to clearly see a Swamp Sparrow after only spotting the head of one at Bear Creek last week!  It’s a handsome little bird with slightly longer legs than some sparrows so it can wade in and pull food from the water. (Thanks to Ruth Glass again for the ID!)

Swamp sparrow
A Swamp Sparrow has slightly longer legs than some sparrows so it can pull invertebrates from the water.

Likewise, on October 10, I posted a shadowy photo of a Golden-crowned Kinglet (Regulus satrapa) at Bear Creek.  Today one grazed a window at our home! I followed instructions found on the web and waited 5-10 minutes before intervening – though I had a resting box ready, just in case.  Luckily, it recovered and flew off,  but before it did, I got a slightly fuzzy photo of its golden crown taken through the window. This tiny bird, smaller than a Chickadee and not much bigger than a Hummer, has traveled all the way from the Canadian north and can survive  in -40° temperatures! So let’s hope its accident won’t prevent this hardy survivor from arriving just a bit further south where it intends to spend the winter.

IMG_3480
A Golden-crowned Kinglet who survived a glancing blow against a window in our home. They are in Bear Creek right now as well, but very quick and difficult to see.

Insects that Made It Through Very Chilly Nights!

On sunny days,  you can still hear grasshoppers in warm spots on the trail – though far fewer than before.  I think they are still Red-legged Grasshoppers (Melanoplus femurrubrum)since they usually remain in the fields through October.  The female Red-legged Grasshoppers lay their eggs in the ground during late summer or fall. Only the eggs overwinter, I believe, though some species overwinter as nymphs. (If anyone knows more, please share!) I saw a pair mating rather awkwardly on the edge of a path in October last year.  The male is the smaller, greener grasshopper.

grasshoppers mating
Mating grasshoppers.  The larger female will lay her eggs in the ground and the first nymphs will hatch next summer.

I always thought that all red dragonflies at Bear Creek were Ruby Meadowhawks.  But it seems that there are multiple red Meadowhawk dragonflies. The one I’m seeing on almost every sunny path at the moment is probably a late bloomer named the Yellow-Legged Autumn Dragonfly (Sympetrum vicinum) or at least that’s my best guess.

Yellow-legged Autumn Dragonfly
Lots of these Yellow-legged Autumn Dragonflies are darting along the paths at Bear Creek now.

Now, About those Falling Leaves…

So why the color change?  And how do leaves fall?  The shorter days cue trees to reduce the chlorophyll in their leaves, the substance which makes them green in summer and able to feed sugars to the tree through the chemical action of photosynthesis.  As the chlorophyll subsides with less light, other pigments begin to show or form in the leaves making the leaves turn yellow, orange and red.  In response to less sunlight, a layer of cells gradually forms at the base of each leaf blocking the veins that carry fluids into and out of the leaf.  When that seal is complete, the leaves detach and fall.  More detailed info at this USDA Forest Service link.

Two Members of White Oak Group, the Ones with Rounded Lobes

While in the woods, I continue to snap photos of leaves, trying to imprint their shapes in my mind.  I can now easily recognize the White Oak (Quercus alba) with its rounded lobes and light gray bark.  The fall leaves can evidently be a variety of colors, but are mostly red to brown.

The Bur Oak (Quercus macrocarpa) is a member of the White Oak family, too, with rounded lobes but much deeper sinuses (spaces between the lobes) than the White Oak.  The bristly acorns are a clue to its name.

Three Members of the Red Oak Group, the ones with Pointed Lobes

Northern Red Oaks (Quercus rubra) have leaves with 7-11 bristle-tipped, pointed lobes.  The fall leaves can be red to brown.  I loved the deep chocolate color of this one on a deck in the marsh.

Red Oak Leaf
A Northern Red Oak leaf has 7-11 pointed, bristled lobes.

The leaves of Black Oaks (Quercus velutina), a member of the Red Oak group, have only 5-7 pointed, bristle-tipped lobes and can be yellow to brown in the autumn.

Black oak leaf brown
The Black Oak,  a member of the Red Oak group, has 5-7 pointed, bristly lobes.

Another member of the Red Oak group, the Northern Pin Oak (Quercus palustris), has deep sinuses that reach almost to the central vein between the pointed lobes .  These trees encircle the playground with color right now and they are in the woods as well.

Pin Oak
Northern Pin Oaks have deep sinuses and the pointed lobes typical of the Red Oak group.

Acorns, the nuts which contain Oak seeds, are dropping through the leaves and rolling underfoot.  Eastern Chipmunks take some of them underground to the larder chambers in their burrows.  Squirrels simply dig holes in the ground and cover the nut with earth.  They’ll find some to eat in the winter and others will be forgotten.  While feeding wildlife (some birds eat acorns too), this burying of nuts also helps replenish the forest with saplings in coming years. (Cool info on acorns at this link that two people sent to me this week! Thanks to Mary and Ben!)

Two Kinds of Maples – there are many more!

Maples are tolerant of shade, so they form part of the “understory” of our woods. They produce winged seeds that we, as kids, called “helicopter seeds,”  but that botanists call “samaras.”  There’s a photo at this link of samaras from a Silver Maple.

Red Maples (Acer rubrum)are one of the most widespread trees in Eastern North America.  I liked how the one on the left below had only partially turned when it fell, so it ended up tri-colored. The scarlet one on the right turned before it fell.

The Silver Maple (Acer saccharinum) has a more delicate, deeply lobed leaf  whose pearly underside provides its name.

Silver Maple leaf
The Silver Maple is more deeply lobed and gets it name from its silver underside.
Some other Leaf Favorites

I’m particularly fond of the 3-fingered leaf of the Sassafras tree (Sassafras albidum).  According to Wikipedia, in the 19th century,  Sassafras roots were used for root beer or “sarsaparilla,” a soft drink that straight-arrow cowboys ordered at the saloon in old western movies, a source of amusement to their macho compatriots.  You can smell the root beer scent if you snap the stem of a green Sassafras leaf.  However, the roots turn out to be bad for your liver, so root beer these days is made with artificial flavorings.

Sassafras leaf
The 3-fingered leaf of a Sassafras tree, whose roots were once used to make root beer and sarsaparilla.

Staghorn Sumac (Rhus typhina) left a lovely pattern on the path near the marsh. These native trees filled the field behind my parents’ house on Lake George Road so I have a particular fondness for the graceful shape and scarlet color of their autumn leaves.

Sumac leaves
Staghorn Sumac leaves on a path near the marsh.

A New Home for Native Plants at Bear Creek!

Staff and volunteers
A crew of volunteers and staff dug up 25 species of donated native plants and re-planted them at Bear Creek this week.  From left to right: Carol Kasprzak, Bruno Feo, Jeff Johnson, Reg Brown, Ben VanderWeide and me (behind the camera).

This week a team of six volunteers and staff caravanned to Armada to collect two beds of native plants donated to Bear Creek by Nancy Parmenter.  She’d sold her house and the new owners needed a larger play area for their children.  So we’re very grateful that she gave them a new home at Bear Creek.  The crew spent several ideal autumn hours digging up the plants and then re-planting them in a new bed near the parking lot.

The plants may not look glamorous now in late fall, but by spring  25 species of native grasses and wildflowers will be adding more color and diversity to Bear Creek.  The garden is just to the right of the pavilion and there’s a wood chip path through  it so that in spring you’ll be able to walk close to the flowers.   Thank you to everyone who dug and planted and to Nancy Parmenter for this wonderful donation!

So you have lots of reasons to visit the park on these glorious autumn days – watch for migrating birds, laugh at chipmunks during their fall eating frenzy, be escorted by late season dragonflies, spy on a hibernating raccoon or have a first look at our newest native flowerbed.  Savor the season!

THIS WEEK AT BEAR CREEK: Birding by Ear, Dueling Chipmunks and Seeds in the Wind

Sloping Path Mid Fall

If you wonder why it’s so tricky to get photos of migrating birds in the autumn, have a look at the colors of the western Old Field above.  The bright gold of the goldenrod has now faded to a soft silvery brown.  In their subdued winter plumage, small birds can be nicely camouflaged as they feed.  Vines full of fruit hang from bushes and trees – with just enough leaves to make a perfect hiding place. So to see these small visitors, a park walker’s best tools are their ears.  Birds aren’t singing now but they do click, whistle, chip and cheep as they move through the tall grass and vines.

Blog post and photos by Cam Mannino
Blog post and photos by Cam Mannino

I’m not expert enough to  identify birds by these autumn calls.  I can only locate birds by hearing clicks and cheeps and then wait for them to emerge long enough to take a quick photo or glimpse them through binoculars. This week, some chirping sounds in the woods led me to a delightful chipmunk competition as well.  So here’s where my ears led me this week at Bear Creek.

Listening for Migrants:  Still Here but in Smaller Numbers

This Yellow-rumped Warbler (Setophaga coronata) kindly appeared on a bare branch over the marsh.  Its field marks in the fall are that yellow spot below the wing and the rectangular yellow patch above the tail visible in the photo below.  Yellow-rumped Warblers tend to be quick and noisy while foraging and even make a chek sound when flying.  Page down to “Calls” at this Cornell link to hear their fall cheeping. I love the thought that some of these birds spend the winter on tropical coffee plantations!

yellow rumped warbler non-breeding first winter
A Yellow-rumped Warbler.
Yellow rumped warbler's yellow rump
Here the yellow patch above the tail of the Yellow-rumped Warbler is visible.

The Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) was still here this week, but I only saw single birds, not flocks like last week.  This tiny bird is only about 3/4 of an inch longer than a Ruby-throated Hummingbird and like the Hummer, can flutter in the air as it picks seeds off of the goldenrod.  We spotted this one because of its restless flitting and its call, which sounds a bit like a high-pitched version of the American Red Squirrel’s scold.  Click here and page down to “Calls” at this Cornell link.

Ruby-crowned kinglet
A Ruby-crowned Kinglet who can feed while fluttering, in the style of a hummingbird.

White-throated Sparrows on their way south bounced and swayed among the goldenrod, looking for seed,  or rested, perching in short trees and shrubs nearby. The yellow dots in front of their eyes (their “lores”) make them easier to identify than some sparrows.  Cornell describes their call as a “high, level seep”; I’d say a small, soft cheep, but you can listen here under the second “call” and see what you’d name it.  This one seemed a bit annoyed at my camera!

White-throated Sparrow
The White-throated Sparrows migrating through this week make a high “seep” sound as they forage.

A smaller group of young White-crowned Sparrows (Zonotrichia leucophrys)moved into and out of the tangles of brush along the paths.  These brownish youngsters, like the ones in last week’s post, were born south of the Arctic circle this summer.  When they return in the spring, their heads will be boldly striped black and white. They’ll have a lovely song then but right now they make a rather simple sparrow “chip” as they forage among the greenery.

White-throated Sparrow first year2
A first winter White-crowned Sparrow pauses in the vines.

The cheek pattern on this brown and gray sparrow means it might be a Swamp Sparrow, but since it refused to emerge from its hiding place in the goldenrod, I can’t be quite sure! If it is, it’ll have longer legs so that it can actually put its head under water to capture aquatic insects. This one was clearly hiding so it didn’t make its metallic “chip” call.

Swamp sparrow
This may be a Swamp Sparrow from his cheek markings but it wouldn’t emerge from the goldenrod!

Winter Residents Making Noise

Young Cedar Waxwings still dash about the park until they depart later in the fall or winter. They can make quite a racket as they dip and swirl through the trees looking for fruit.  Check out the bzee trills and whistles of a whole flock at this Cornell link. Here you can see the yellow tips of a Waxwing’s tail feathers in flight and also when it is perched on a limb.

Cedar Waxwing flying
A Cedar Waxwing turning and twisting through tree branches and whistling at the same time!
Cedar Waxwing juvenile
The yellow tips of a Cedar Waxwing’s tail feathers glow on a gray day.

Our summer Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata) are departing and ones from farther north are arriving here for the winter.  Jays are members of the very bright Corvidae bird family, like Crows.  Here’s a curious winter migrant exploring a standing dead tree (or “snag”) in Bear Creek.  You’ll hear lots of raucous Jay calls in the park right now, as they flock in from the North.  The familiar call is at this link at the third recording under “Calls.”

Blue jay checking out hole1
A curious Blue Jay checks out a hole in a “snag” or standing dead tree in Bear Creek.

Downy Woodpeckers (Picoides pubescens) make good use of “snags” for drumming when courting or making holes for nesting in the spring.  Now they make only a soft tapping sound as they search for insects and the occasional seed. Their quick vertical/upside-down/every-which-way acrobatic trunk hopping serves as a better clue to finding one. Downies travel in mixed flocks during the winter. According to the Cornell Lab, they get more warning of predators and find more food that way.  Females (no red head spot) evidently feed on larger branches or the trunks of trees because males (red spot on back of head) prevent them from feeding on smaller branches and weed stems which females seem to prefer when males are absent!  So here’s an “oppressed” female Downy on a large limb.

Downy Woodpecker Female
Female Downy Woodpeckers generally feed on tree trunks and large limbs because males prevent them from feeding on the smaller limbs and weed stems which females seem to  prefer.

American Goldfinches (Spinus tristis) sing in flight and they are everywhere in Bear Creek now.  Wikipedia describes their flight call as tsee-tsi-tsi-tsit  or per-chic-o-ree.  Maybe you’ll recognize the first recording under “Calls” at this Cornell link. 

Goldfinch Fall plumage
An adult male Goldfinch in winter plumage still sings when in flight.

A Noisy Chipping Competition with an Unimpressed Audience!

Willow in the marsh autumn
A willow in the marsh

The fall colors in the marsh are lovely and I have always loved this big willow that floats like a cloud above the reeds at the south end.   Male mallards flutter in the water in an effort to impress the females and find a mate for the spring.  Since many of them have not finished molting and still have brown feathers mixed with the iridescent green, the females aren’t paying much attention yet.

Mallards in marsh
The female mallards don’t seem to be paying much attention to the male fluttering his wings, a display gesture for mallards.

In the woods at the edge of the marsh, though, I came across the auditory dueling of  Eastern Chipmunks (Tamias striatus).  They each “chipped” steadily for long minutes, presumably defending their cache of nuts and seeds from possible snitching by the other.  With winter approaching, it happens! So these chipmunks loudly defended their territories – presumably from me as well as other chipmunks.  I saw one of the noisy characters, its whole body throbbing as it “chipped” loudly from a fallen limb.

Chipmunk chipping
A chipmunk chips loudly to protect its territory and defend its winter cache of seeds and nuts.

I wasn’t able to find the answering chipmunk on the other side of the trail, but I did spot a listener nearby.

Chipmunk listens to chipping
A silent chipmunk listens to two others chipping loudly to defend their territory and cache.

But evidently, the listening chipmunk found whatever was being communicated quite distasteful – or perhaps it was just having digestion problems!  But its expression changed and made me laugh out loud.

Chipmunk squinting
The listening chipmunk either didn’t like the chipping competition or was suffering from a bad case of indigestion!

Here’s a 30 second recording I made of the two dueling chipmunks warning each other – and me probably –  to respect their territory!

Seeds in the Wind!

Butterfly Milkweed pods seeding
Butterfly Milkweed pods broke open this week and their ripe seeds were carried away on the wind.

This week the slender pods of native Butterfly Milkweed (Ascelpias tuberosa) broke open and the wind took the ripe seeds dancing through the air.  Whenever we find milkweed seeds of any kind  on a mowed or limestone path, some place where it would be difficult for them to grow, my husband and I  pick them up and release them into the wind.  (We don’t break open seed pods!  The seeds aren’t mature until the pods open and the seeds start flying on their own.) We toss or blow them into the air because we want more of milkweed next year.  And besides,  watching the seeds sail across a meadow, competing to see which one goes farthest and highest,  is a good game!

So if you come to Bear Creek this week – or any week  –  perhaps you too can discover how your ears, as well as your eyes, can help you spot birds, especially small ones, that you’ve never noticed before. And if you see some milkweed seeds that have landed in unfortunate places, toss them skyward and watch them fly!

*Footnote:  My sources for information, as well as Oakland Township Stewardship Manager Dr. Ben VanderWeide, are as follows: Ritland, D. B., & Brower, L. P. (1991);Stokes Nature Guides:  A Guide to Bird Behavior Volumes 1-3, Allaboutbirds.org, the website of the Cornell Ornithology Lab at Cornell University; Wikipedia; http://www.butterfliesandmoths.org; 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; University of Wisconsin's Bug Lady at www4.uwm.edu/fieldstation/naturalhistory/bugoftheweek/ for beetle info http://www.migrationresearch.org/mbo/id/rbgr.html for migration info, and invaluable wildflower identification from local expert, Maryann Whitman; experienced birder Ruth Glass, bird walk leader at Stoney Creek Metro Park for bird identification;Birds of North American Online; Audubon.org