“O Ye of Little Faith”

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A few weeks ago, I was lamenting the “Silent Spring” tone to my yard.  We had been gone for three weeks and upon our return the only bird that showed up with any regularity was a female, I think, Ruby Crowned Kinglet.  She was feeding on the suet that remained whereas all the seed was long gone and with it, most of our usual birds.  But of course, a few birds finally showed up, and the word began to spread and now, what a delightful group I have.

 Lesser Goldfinches, coming into their breeding colors, American Goldfinches, looking pretty robust next to the diminutive Lessers, and the getting-redder-every-day, House Finches.  But who did NOT show up with them this year; the gobbling-up, thistle eating, Pine siskins.  If you recall, last year they came in droves, to my initial delight and my later annoyance, as they wouldn’t leave.  They nest in the north, in PINES for crying out loud, yet refused to leave my thistle stocked deck until I practically had to get them all passports to Canada. 

So it was with bated breath that I have been listening for the telltale “zziiiiipppp” of their call but so far, none.  I have read that they are erratic in their migratory movements, one year coming and staying like long lost relatives, the next, not a sighting.  And so it seems to be. Fine with me for thistle is one, high priced birdseed. 

Also back, are not only the Scrub Jays but also my dear New England friends, the Blue Jays.  I had read that they are here in TX but I don’t see them with any regularity, and these may just be passing by.  I love how well they can imitate Red Tailed hawks, and that is how I spotted my first group in the trees behind us.  Sounded like the hawks that I miss, but turned out to be the jays having some fun. 

My wrens are also back, Carolina and Bewick’s and they keep the yard lively with their territorial claims to every corner of it.  Golden Fronted Woodpeckers are also back transferring the sunflower seed from my feeder into caches in the junipers. And how fitting is this, some Junco’s which we also call Snow birds and were my constant winter companions on the Cape, happened by a day or two before our “snow”, ½” of sleet and ice that brought this part of Texas to a halt.  And happened on my absolute birthday so what a great gift to this snow lover that was!

Black-crested Titmice and their Carolina Chickadee cousins are also getting pretty raucous out there, for here in TX, I think Feb is the beginning of the nesting season, at least the claiming-of-territory part.  This squabbling makes me think it has started already. 

So, the gang is back; filling feeders daily is my start-up morning chore again and with this cold weather, melting and refilling the birdbath is on my “to-do” list.  Again, “O Ye of Little Faith”, my complaining was a bit premature, that they were GONE and I would be bereft without them.

 Now, I am off to teach some third graders about hummingbirds, which amazingly, could show up here as early as next week!  Time to get the sugar water brewing and out where they can see it.  A bird-watcher/feeder’s job is never done and believe me, that is not a complaint but a thankful statement.  Next blog, back to tales from the coast “Of Palm Trees and Pelicans” waiting in the wings to be written.  Till then, may bird song, or more likely contact calls and territorial calls begin to fill your yards too. 

Scat Central

 
The second most exciting thing about our trip to Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, after the fabulous birding, was the plethora of scat sightings.  If you have read this blog for a while, you know that I am someone who always brakes for scat (animal poop).  After all, your chances of seeing the actual animal, are fairly remote, but if you come upon some scat at least you know the animals been there.  Perhaps you will even be able to make a fair hypothesis about what they were eating.  All part of the “nature detective” work we curious naturalists revel in.

And if you have followed this blog over the years you will also know that I have been vocal in my disappointment of a lack of scat here in my area of TX.  I have been prone to blame dung beetles for squirreling it all away before I had a chance to see it.  Or perhaps I should just admit that where I walk, raccoons and deer scat are always going to be the bulk of what I see.  I was simply spoiled by my walks on the Cape, which more routinely produced a wider variety of droppings. 

But hold the phone!  Aransas was like scat central!  We walked one patch of road, which had to be the main marking spot for the local coyotes.  They like to mark their territory and often place their scats by the side of the road where they won’t get squashed by cars, and also at trail crossings.  This one bit of road produced scats that showed what omnivores they really are: some  were full of seed, some with fur, and some showing a switch in diet over the days.  

Now, I am always just making my best guess, and can be wrong, but this very long one might be coyote, but the pointy ending often points to fox, so the jury is out on this one but what a great specimen, whatever it is.   Armadillos had rooted their way along so many of the trails, but again, their scat seems rare as hens teeth, or perhaps I just don’t know it when I see it.  I did read recently that they often bury it like a cat, so maybe that is why even though there were wall-to-wall armadillo signs; I didn’t see their scat.

Ditto on the feral hogs.  They had rooted through many of the paths, the parking areas, the fields, the dry ponds, and we saw their tracks everywhere, but I missed the scat that must have been there.  Drawn away by family members who aren’t really as excited about this as I am.  HAD I seen some, this is what it would have looked like.

 This picture isn’t a scat but, I believe, it is a Kestrel’s pellet, the regurgitated remains of the mice and voles it ate.  It looks like scat; only it is solidly fur and bones.   There must have been a dozen pellets on the top of the observation tower and we had been watching a kestrel hunt right in front of us there.  The owl pellets I am used to seeing always have rounded ends so this pointed one intrigued me.  Like coyote scat only no coyote would be climbing on the ledge of the tower to relieve himself.  Looking online, the Kestrel seems to be the only one with this pointy end, and with the bird right in front of us, it seems a logical conclusion.    

I suppose, there is a remote possibility that you readers might not find this as fascinating as I do, in which case I should end now.  “Always leave them wanting more”, isn’t that the saying? Ah, but one more mention than we will shut down the computer. 

I have been entertained in my neighborhood by noticing that the omnipresent raccoon scat, often, now that winter is here, shows signs of a seed diet that switches to a purloined, cat chow diet.  The first half of the scat being comprised of seeds, but the second part, tootsie-roll like, similar to dog scat that shows a processed foods diet.   With so many feral cats in the area and these cold temps, many of us leave cat chow out for, we think the cats, but clearly from this evidence, the raccoons are also appreciative:  another “scat sleuthing” deduction. 

See what fun it can be?  You’re hooked aren’t you and now you can start making deductions of your own.  Old Irish Blessing, “may the scat rise up to meet you…”

Whooping it Up in Aransas

I am embarrassed to say that it took me 2 years to finally get to Aransas National Wildlife Refuge.  I have known that some of the very best birding opportunities in our country are right here on the Texas Coast, yet for one reason or another we had yet to go.  Better late than never though, and what a rewarding weekend it was. 

Whooping Cranes, Sandhill Cranes, Glossy Ibis, Roseate Spoonbills, all super stars of bird land.  No tiny brown balls in the bushes but birds that stand several feet tall on the wetland or on tidal flats- hard to miss birds.  But most   Back in the late 30’s early 40’s there were only 15 birds left, only 15!  That they are here at all, 60 years later is a testimony to man’s doggedness at trying to undo the damage that his presence had done. The amazing thing is knowing, that when you are looking at the Whopping cranes, you are seeing not only the tallest bird on our continent, but the most rare.

As is so often the case, it is habitat loss, filling in the wetlands for farmland in the Midwest, and hunting that brought them to such a low number.  These birds breed in the Northwest Territories of Canada and then migrate, in this case, to the coast of Texas to winter on the wetlands found at Aransas.  It was made a wildlife refuge in 1941 for the very purpose of protecting their wintering habitat.  And so it has. 

I mention doggedness because when you read of all the things they have tried, and the failures they encountered, it is admirable that they keep going.  I remember when they were trying to have the chicks raised by the somewhat similar Sandhill cranes, only to find out, that although they grew normally, because of imprinting, they only had eyes for other Sandhills.  Scrap that plan.   Some were raised to be non-migratory in Fl but I believe I read that, and what was the chance of this, a large part of that population got wiped out in a tornado. 

Another group you might have read about is being raised in Wisconsin and then led by an ultralight plane to their wintering grounds in Fl.   This is an attempt to establish a new Eastern population of birds and so far, it has met with success, yeah!  Some of the young are still picked off by predators, who apparently have not read the Endangered Species Act and consider a meal a meal, but that can’t be helped really.  Although, people will point out there are too many bobcats to prey on them because coyotes and wolves are gone.  The delicate balance of nature is not a fictitious thing.  But this eastern group is doing well in that some of those raised flying behind the ultralight, now make the trek on their own.  Again, yeah!

So, it was a thrill to see a pair feeding on the marsh at sunset.  5’ tall, with the characteristic “bustle” of the crane looking all fluffy in the light, and the red patch which isn’t red feathers but a skin patch, also clearly visible.  As we watched from the trail, several V’s of Sandhill cranes came “bugling” their way in.  You can hear them before you see them. 

 Both Whooping Cranes and Sandhills have these great long tracheas that coil at the bottom like a tuba enabling them to have calls that, in the Whopping crane, can be heard 5 miles away!  They flew in so gracefully and landed on the marsh arranging themselves exactly as you see them painted on Japanese screens.

They close the park at dusk, more the pity there, for that’s when things begin livening up, and that thickening golden light made everything beyond beautiful.  A pair of Glossy Ibis was just a few feet from us, their feathers iridescent green in the light, and Roseate spoonbills that looked like flamingoes at first glance, stood feeding in the distance.  So exotic!

But are you beginning to nod off like someone trapped in another person’s slide show of their recent trips?  Perhaps, yet you know there will have to be a few more blogs to follow on this for we saw so much!  And after being reduced to write about dung beetles( not that I don’t LOVE dung beetles) it is great to have so many potential topics.  Stay tuned; think “Scat Central” may be next.

Missing MY Birds

The deck is far too quiet.  The birdfeeders don’t require a daily refill. I miss my birds but I can’t really blame them for leaving.  I had the audacity to be gone for three weeks, in winter no less, a Texas winter, but still.  Christmas came and went with no extra “sheath of wheat” from me.  I have a feeling that in my absence they found the neighbor with the way-deluxe feeder, which may explain their reluctance to dash back.  

 

The yard itself sports tons of juniper trees for any Cedar Waxwing types that flitted by, and thanks to the bumper crop of acorns the squirrels and Scrub jays were pretty self sufficient even before I left. 

 I am, however, doing my best to woe them back; putting out suet and high priced nyjer seed.  When I first returned, I only had sunflower seeds and thought that would be kind on my part not to dilute it with the cheap millet stuff.  Then I realized that if I was desperate enough to want sparrows and white winged doves back, I would have to get the mixed seed and so I did.

What an irony eh? If you were to look back at some of last years blogs you would see I was cursing the bane of too many House sparrows and also moaning about the Pine Siskins that settled down to eat nyger seed by the bucket full, through winter and far deeper into spring then they should have.  I kept telling them to get to Canada before it was too late and they got caught in our Texas oven summer.  I remember reading they were fickle birds that may camp out with you one winter and be nowhere in sight for several winters after.  In my present birdless state, would I welcome them back?  Perhaps.

But of course I exaggerate.  I have one feeder in the back of the property and several cardinals are visiting that one, they are just not coming up to greet me on the deck.  And I hear the wrens, both Carolina and Bewick’s who only need me to provide places for them to hop about on and have always fended for themselves, food wise. Today, I had a brief visit from some Lesser Goldfinch who didn’t seem to notice the high priced nyger but went to the feeder with the cheap stuff.  And actually the first bird to visit the suet was a Ruby Crowned Kinglet, perhaps a female or a male who is keeping his red crown under wraps.  Now that I think of it, I have heard and seen a few Carolina chickadees and Titmice, it’s just that they were here in much greater numbers before I headed to Maine. 

Now, perhaps a lot of you are thinking, isn’t Texas the grand wintering spot for many birds?  I believe it is, but more so along the coast than here.  Actually, how I wish I had a travel buddy, for I do hear there are pelicans at Mitchell Lake not that far south of San Antonio, which I need to go check out.  And embarrassingly, I haven’t been to Padre Island or Aransas yet.   But my New Years resolution is to force my husband to occasionally leave the paper work behind and go play.  Let’s hope then that some future blogs will be about me being wowed by Whopping cranes or tickled to see mass amounts of pelicans. 

But for now, I shall go smear a little peanut butter on the suet in hopes that that might appeal to some bird palate out there.  And should they return, and should they start gobbling seed at an alarming rate again, you shall have to remind me that I have forfeited my right to complain about it!

The Four Seasons

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Clearly, my psyche needs them.  Each season in it’s turn, a delight.  And I can say this after being waylaid for four days in our attempt to fly home from Maine to Texas.  It does amaze me, that in 2013 I was able, thanks to my daughter’s family relocating to the University of Maine, to capture each of the four seasons in their height and glory. 

A grandson born in the peak of spring, with lupines and lilacs in full bloom, a chance to pick apples and pumpkins in the fall, and now a world so covered in ice and snow as to feel like we were on a set for the filming of the Snow Queen. 

 And of course, the summer season is covered here in Texas some 8 months of the year.  How thankful I am to have experienced all four, when my biggest lament of moving here was that I would have to give them up. 

As I write this, the “Polar Vortex” that has delivered winter to the doorstep of many who had no desire to revel in the cold, is just retreating.  Of course, the cold caused damage, and even some deaths, so perhaps this isn’t the time to write about the joys of winter.  Apologies to your southerners who are still trying to thaw out.

But Maine is all about winter.  Perhaps it isn’t always this way, but these last two years have served up the whitest of white Christmases and Currier and Ives scenes abounded.  This year, snow was followed by ice, which was followed by snow and then more ice and then more snow.  There were days when the high was -7 so the ice that coated the trees and made it look like a crystal forest wasn’t melting when we were there.  Thanking God that we didn’t lose our electricity, and that the wind didn’t pick up which would have turned a crystal forest into a broken one, we could just marvel at the beauty of it all. 

I do have a feeling that my daughter will be ducking under this birch tree for months to come. You see birches lining the highway and the fields bowing to all that pass, and it will be interesting to see in subsequent spring visits, how many manage to straighten up again, and how many will continue to be bent reminders of their winter load of ice and snow.

These ice-covered apples will eventually fall and provide food for the foraging deer and buds coated in ice will hopefully be none the worse for wear when spring comes. 

Returning to Texas, through snow and ice and cancelled flights, we arrived to 18 degrees and weird person that I am, I thought that was a good thing.  To be catapulted through the seasons is disconcerting in my book.  Now I can look to a slow warm up and fool myself into thinking winter will be melting into spring.  Yet, I know for my daughter that will be months and months away.  And with three children under 5 that need to be bundled, mittened and booted, the delight in winter has probably waned already, but still, this Nona is thankful to have been a part of it, even if just for a few weeks.