Saturday, May 28, 2016

It's Not All Instinct



I think anyone with a bird feeder and a moment or two to watch birds at the feeder, will conclude that life isn’t purely instinctual for our young fledglings.  It is that time of year, at least here in Texas where nesting starts pretty early, that the young are hatched, fledged, but not in their adult plumage yet so it makes them easy to spot.  They are also easy to spot for the tentative way some of them approach the accoutrements we have provided for them- feeders, birdbaths etc.


Yesterday I saw a young Carolina wren come to the tubular bird feeder.  Generally the wrens that live on the porch are content to scratch about in the potted plants looking for insects, or the gutters, or just come for water.  However this young wren had noticed the action was on the feeder and once it secured a spot, it just started tossing seed after seed out.  It seemed like it was looking for the insect that must be in there somewhere.  But it did eventually fly off with a seed, a peanut maybe.
Whatever it found, that was the first young wren I ever saw do that.  Surely the squirrels and ground feeders are hoping it will do it again!


I also been watching the young and gangly, Golden Fronted woodpeckers hang precariously from the hummingbird feeder.  Getting the right angle so that they can hang on, yet still get their long tongue into the sugar water only comes with practice.  Liking sweets might be instinctual but how to get at them is not!

In the night I am often awakened by a mockingbird practicing it’s mimicry.  It goes on and on till I want to argue, “Aren’t you mostly diurnal?” Mostly, being the salient point.  Last night however, what I heard was a much softer and short-lived song. At first I thought it was the trill of a tree frog, but them it switched to a short version of “tea kettle, tea kettle tee,” so NOT a toad.  Then it stopped.  The adult goes on forever, at least it seems that way when you are trying to sleep, but this one, a few little lines, a restart, and then silence.  An immature mockingbird then?  Perhaps.

Bathing with gusto seems to also take time to learn. Young birds sometimes seem to just stand there, cooling their heels as it were, whereas the “dip and shake” move comes as they get a little older.   


I won’t even mention how quickly squirrels learn by watching each other.  This year we hung our feeder on a monofilament line strung like a clothesline. We TRIED to position it just a bit too far from the tree and from the porch to keep them from leaping onto it. It worked for months until this latest crop of new and even more athletic squirrels took center stage.  Either training camp really paid off or this new generation is just more athletic but, either way, there isn’t an angle that they can’t conquer.



My husband, a military engineer officer, has been erecting obstacles to “impede enemy mobility”.  They look impressive but so far have been no match for the “wonder leapers” this recent crop seems to be. I have been tasked to find pointy rocks to set along the railings but I am convinced it will only give them added height.  There is point in which we have to admit that our much-hyped “brain above all brains” is still somehow no match for a hungry rodent. What IS left, is the ground littered with the hardware of our attempts at thwarting them.  Charming.


MY instinct tells me to give up!


Thursday, May 19, 2016

A deer in the tree? How can that be?



 
I have been meaning and meaning to get back to blogging.  Once a break in the routine had happened I was just having a hard time finding a topic.  The only one that sprung to mind was the mind numbing job of pulling weeds all over my yard only to have the omnipresent rain resurrect them all in short order so I could pull them again.  It has driven me half mad! But rain should be and is a happy thing. Just we are getting too much of a good thing at the moment.


But then, an intriguing topic did present itself.  My friend who lives just two houses down casually mentioned she had a deer hanging in her tree.

Well yes, it has been windy enough to blow down 2 of our cedar trees, but blow a deer into a tree?!  Not quite.  So we are jumping into our CSI naturalist role and wondering what could have possibly done that.  


 Mountain lions are present here in the Hill country, but that’s such an exciting explanation that it probably isn’t true.  Leopards cache food in trees but as I have not heard of any escapees from the zoo we can scratch them from the likely suspect list. 


I tried to research whether mountain lions cached things in trees and most articles point to them caching on the ground, in caves and what not.   


Gray fox are standouts in the canine world for they are the only ones that CAN climb trees.  They have retractable claws and can head up a tree for safety for snoozing, and perhaps for stashing a midnight snack outside their hollow tree den.  Looking at the picture you can see a large opening in the tree.   It looks like a good resting place for fox or raccoons. 

Are raccoons ever cooperative enough to haul this portion size of a deer up into their tree? Clearly they are clever and the large males may be strong enough but I have never heard of such a thing.  Still,  that doesn’t rule them out entirely.


Then of course, we have the human element.  Would my friend’s son be willing to drag up a decomposing deer hind quarter and secure it to branches in a tree?  I think not, this boy is more “snappy dresser musician” than “carcass prankster”.  I think it shall just forever remain a  a mystery .  But the notion is fun enough to speculate about and weird enough to break the spell on writing again.  

The other over riding mystery is how weeds, well plants that I wish grew elsewhere, could so take over our couple of little acres in such little time.  Perhaps that will spark a follow up blog.  And if I could get on a roll I could stop weeding 24/7 and get back on the computer.  We shall just have to wait and see. 
 
don't let this fool you- It is NOT Queen Anne's Lace

Now, the rain has stopped and I can hear the hedge parsley setting its stick tights as we speak.  Grab a bucket, slather on insect spray and get out there Pat. Storm has passed-no excuses. Do it for Tucker.