Ruddy Ducks-A Disney Cartoon Waiting to be Made

-->

 

When I think about Ruddy Ducks, and all their entertaining antics, I am amazed they haven’t yet been cast as the “loveable sidekick” in some Disney animation.  I saw my first Ruddy ducks years ago, on the Chesapeake when we lived in VA and it was love at first sight. They have a perky stiff tail (and how easy to remember, they are members of the Stiff Tailed group of ducks), and a bright sky-blue bill, chestnut sides and this stand-out, white cheek patch.  Then they do cool things like slowly sink out of sight rather than always dive out of sight.  And when it comes to winning the ladies, it seems the males have decided what the females really want in a man is someone who can blow a mean set of bubbles.    

I hadn’t seen any in years, and when I look at the map, I can see why; they aren’t visitors to the Cape, but here in TX they find their wintering grounds, so our trip to Lake Mitchell that weekend netted some great Ruddy duck viewing.  Now, we are a bit ahead of the breeding season so although the male had a blue bill, he didn’t have a BLUE bill, which will eventually become the color of a clear Kansas sky and those folks in Kansas are the most likely ones to see it. 

They breed in the many potholes of the Central Plains states, going through a ritual I would love to see one day.  The male, who has a neck thick enough to look like a wrestler beats his bill against his neck and somehow this results in frothy bubbles coming up from under the front of his body.  He also flips his bill making lovely water rings around himself.  So there he is, in a center of concentric circles, bubbles coming up around him, a la Lawrence Welk, and, if that isn’t enough, he tops off this display with a loving “belch”!

Then, perhaps to show off athleticism, he points that stiff tail downwards and “runs” across the water, making popping sounds with his feet.  Can’t you just picture the lady Ruddy Ducks swooning in his wake!  Really Disney, get on this!

His feeding habits are somewhat unique too; he dives to the bottom of ponds rich in plant and invertebrate life and scoops up the bottom mud straining the food out with his wide bill adapted for such feeding.  Whereas the Northern Shovelers we talked about in the last essay feed from the top of the pond, making those whirlpools to bring up the food, the Ruddy duck hits the bottom.  So everyone gets to use the same habitat and food source but in a slightly different way.  The Cornell Bird sight claims they often feed at night, which might be true for when we came upon them mid-day, they all had their bills tucked in and were sleeping.

Other cool things about them: their feet are placed so far back that they are great at powering down through the water, but Lord help them on land, very hard to walk at all.  And their wings are short and rounded, also good for underwater work, but in the air they must beat their wings frantically to stay aloft, prompting one person to comment that they were like huge duck- shaped hummingbirds! 

Their eggs are the largest in proportion to body sized among the ducks, pebbly in texture and the female may, in the end, lay eggs whose total weight is greater than her own.  She must feel pretty svelte when it is over.  And clever her, she often builds a dome over the nest to shield it from predators.

They were introduced to England, where they are considered an invasive and, it hurts me to say, are called, those “pushy American ducks” and I believe there is a bounty on their head there for they edge out one of the native species.  Somehow this “introducing” things, be they plant or animal, never works out. 

So, Mid-Westerners, keep your eye out, for this “Ruddy Duck Show” will soon be coming to a pothole near you.  If only they bred in what we Northerners call “potholes”; holes in the roads after harsh winters; we would surely have Ruddy ducks galore.  I have a feeling Disney scouts don’t read this blog, but if they do, perhaps we will all see a Ruddy Duck making it big in the cartoon world soon, “Little Duck on the Prairie” or some such thing.  We’ll watch for it and would it net me any creative royalties? It would help balance out all my non-gratis work here in Texas!

600 Shovelers Shoveling

That title “600 Shovelers Shoveling”, sounds like a headline you might see in any East Coast paper at the moment.  Poor dears, being hammered with ice and snow as I write this, but actually, it refers to ducks.  Northern Shoveler’s get their name from their huge shovel-like bill, the largest bill of any North American duck for that matter, that they swing back and forth in the water to strain out their main food diet of invertebrates.

Lucky for me, although you will hear they are found mostly in small groups of no more than 20, that is not true in winter, when they congregate here, south of San Antonio on Lake Mitchell and on other southwest ponds in the hundreds, perhaps thousands.  To come upon them, practically covering the surface of the pond was incredible. 

And cooler yet, they were all in the act of “shoveling”! (My word-there is probably a more scientific word for it, seining maybe)  You see them with their bills low in the water, sort of swinging them back and forth and just plowing along.  The wide bill strains out the water and keeps the tasty invertebrates.  Some were plowing sort of shoulder to shoulder, while in another section of the pond they were forming tight groups and swimming quickly in a circle.  Looked like ducks at a hoedown!  But what they are really doing is creating a whirlpool that will bring the critters up from the bottom to the top where they can scoop them up.  Reminded me of humpback whales that make a bubble net that traps the fish in a column that they can feed easily from. 

I feel I was lucky to see them, for the weather is quickly getting warmer and they will be heading north to nest in western Canada and our north central states. 

On the same ponds were quite a number of Ruddy Ducks, a favorite of mine ever since we lived in VA and we would see them along Chesapeake bay.  What is interesting, is the way so many different species can share the food supply found in a pond by feeding in slightly different ways.  Whereas the Shovelers, for the most part, feed at the surface straining out food, the Ruddy Ducks make for the bottom, straining the invertebrates with their specialized bill from the muddy bottom.  They also feed more often at night than by day, so the poor damselfly larvae can’t catch a break!  Ruddy Ducks are so interesting that they really deserve their own blog, which they shall get when I find some time.

 

I must say, getting acclimated to February being spring is still difficult for me, It means the Outdoor Classroom at Cibolo Nature Center where I volunteer is in full swing, the yard needs work and the baby opossums and raccoons are starting to fill up the Wildlife Rescue place that I also volunteer at.  So, although there is finally more to write about, there is scant time to do so.  But next time I get an opportunity, the Ruddy Duck shall get its due.  Till then, all my northern friends, keep shoveling; had we not had to move, I would have been right there with you. 

The Four Seasons of Texas - All in One Week

Ah, the vagaries of the weather.  In New England there is a saying “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.”  From my provincial childhood view I thought we were the only ones to claim that but with our many moves, I learned that it was a byword for many other places, including TX.  I must say though, that none of the other states ever came close to this roller-coaster weather pattern of extremes I am experiencing in Texas.

This time last week, I had sweat rolling down my back as we focused our binoculars on a marvelous array of ducks wintering at Lake Mitchell, south of San Antonio.  It was a lovely day, but hot when you stayed out in the sun.  A very healthy coral snake thought so too as he crossed the dried winter grass not far from our car.  That was Saturday.

On Sunday, coming out of church, the wind was driving the rain sideways and it felt just like the ocean must be on the other side of this hill; that raw damp cold that is so familiar on Cape Cod.   

Monday it was blowing, but had a soft spring-zephyr feel to it.  Tuesday was beautiful, a typical June day.  Wednesday, the wind was getting sharper; it felt like football weather in Oct and then by Thursday we were back to winter with freezing rain, which is continuing today. Tomorrow’s forecast is for the mid-60’s and Sunday mid-70’s.

Now, I don’t mean to be complaining, I know many of you living north of the 35^th latitude would be happy to change places. I am sure you are only varying between -20 to perhaps 30; my spread is indeed more enviable.  But one always wonders what the poor animals think of this sort of swing.  I imagine it is hard on them. It is a time to keep your feeders filled and if you are willing to buy one of those small heaters for bird baths, you can provide them with much needed water.  I couldn’t get over how many more birds I saw on my deck on the Cape when I splurged for one of those because not only will you draw in the seed-eaters that come to your feeder, but also the non-seed eaters will come just for a drink on the house.

I was reading from a Wild Birds Unlimited site how important it is for birds to bathe in winter so their feathers were kept in top form.  They claim a chickadee that has well maintained feathers, can keep a 70-degree difference between its skin and the air.  Amazing.  I remember blogging in the past about the rather astounding ability of the tiny Golden and Ruby Crowned Kinglets to survive the harsh winters of Maine just by fluffing up their feathers enough.

The other thing to point out is that it is the LIGHT, not the temperature that initiates things like setting up territories or finding that special someone for the breeding season.  Its why, even on a frigid day in Feb on the Cape, I would begin to hear the “fee-bee” territorial call of the chickadees as they started to move away from that “all for one and one for all” mentality that they carry through the winter, to “this land is my land, it is NOT your land” tune of spring. 

It is so easy to go on the Cornell Lab of Ornithology web page and listen to their recordings of the different bird songs and you can begin to pick out who is, as we used to say, “on the make” in your neighborhood.  I always found it to be a good antidote to getting the “This winter is NEVER going to

End” blues.  Spring IS in the air; you just have to listen for it.

Now, its time for me to melt the ice in the birdbath again and pour another cup of hot tea for, once again, this TX winter season may very well be interrupted by Spring Summer and Fall!

Of Palm Trees and Pelicans

It’s almost Pavlovian: if you are from a northern clime, you see a palm tree and, BAM, you feel like you are on vacation.  Pelicans flying in their V-formation, just inches off the water and I am transported to Florida.  Now I can add the coast of Texas to that response.

No sooner had we entered Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, when, there they were, Brown Pelicans, cruising and “splooshing” into the water with inimitable Brown pelican style.  On the Cape, the closest thing we had to this were the Northern Gannets who came closer to shore in spring and fall.  I loved watching a diving/feeding frenzy, but it was usually at a distance.  A lot of tourists thought they were seeing whales.  But when a pelican dive- bombs right in front of you, it is unmistakable.

We would see both Brown and White pelicans as we toured about that weekend.  Amazing, when I was just out of college, I sponsored an Endangered Species Weekend at the Boston Science Museum and I used a graphic of the Brown pelican to indicated an exhibit that reflected information on endangered species. 

At that time, mid-70’s, the Brown Pelican’s population was severely depleted as a result of too much DDT getting into the food chain and becoming more toxic as it went up the food chain.  The effect it had on many fish eating birds; pelicans, osprey, bald eagles, etc. was to make the eggshell so thin that it would break when the parent tried to incubate it.  It was heartbreaking, but legislation was passed, DDT was banned, at least in our country, and the birds have made remarkable comebacks.

And they are pretty remarkable birds.  The Brown Pelican, unlike the White Pelican, dives for its fish, which it can spot, from 20-60’ in the air.  Watch them as they dive for they fold back their wings, and then turn their body to the side protecting that long bill.  Internally, they have air sacs under the skin and in their skeletal structure to help, not only cushion the blow, but keep them buoyant when they are on the water.  That expandable pouch can hold 3 gallons of water, which of course, they must squeeze out, retaining just the fish and those they swallow head first.  You can see some pretty crazy distortions in their pouch when they net a really large fish.  Gulls have been noted sitting on the head of a pelican while he drains the water and snatching the fish right from it.  All’s fair in love and war and fishing I guess.

I hope we get back to the coast in spring, for then, the male pelicans have breeding colors that show up in darkened bills, brighter facial patches and, with the White pelicans, they grow a knob on the upper bill that will disappear once the young are hatched.  Something this northerner didn’t know they did.  

Also, cool to see, would be any of the older chicks trying to feed from the regurgitated fish stew that the parent pelican has in its pouch, which by the way is scientifically referred to as a gular skin.  The parent feeds very young pelicans, dripping the regurgitated fish into their bills, but as they get older they start to help themselves.  Wouldn’t that be entertaining to see?

Just one more thing, when you see them flying so low over the water, and barely beating their wings, and wonder why they aren’t tumbling out of the sky, it is because they get an aerodynamic lift being that close to the water.  Something to do with physics I suppose, beating the air down with their wings and having if come back from the surface with more lift power.  Ask an aeronautical engineer; they could do a better job of explaining it.  But the pelicans have been doing that for millions of years and, please God, may they continue to do it for millions more.  It just wouldn’t be a vacation without them.

“O Ye of Little Faith”

-->

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.