NatureGeezer

Multi-brood birds

2009-07-31T09:14:00.003-04:00

“Do phoebes raise more than one brood a season? asks Flo Vannoni of Redding.

“A pair of phoebes nested over our sliding door and succeeded in fledging three babies,” she writes. “The babies left the nest about one week ago and since then, we had not seen parents or babies. Today one of the parents returned to where the nest had been – I had removed it. Is it possible they would start another nest?”

Many species have more than one brood in a season, as Mary Walsh of Ridgefield – who sent the accompanying shot of a second-brood bluebird chick – can attest.

“The baby bluebirds fledged last week from a nesting box on my property,” Mary wrote July 14. “It is the second brood this summer.

“I found one baby hiding out on the running board of my Sequoia. As I tiptoed within a few feet, the baby bluebird hopped away. It appeared to be struggling to fly… Mom and Dad were in the trees chirping away. I had to leave and he was gone when I returned home. I hope he took flight.”

Flo wondered whether her phoebes would start another nest. They probably would, and perhaps in the same location since they would likely have used the old nest a second time.

Eastern Phoebes are very loyal to nesting location. They not only use the same nest for their two broods in a season, but also tend to re-use it for several years. That is relatively unusual among songbirds, most of whom build new nests every year. Phoebes simply make repairs and spruce up the previous year’s nest – “waste not, want not” is apparently the motto of this avian recycler.

For many songbirds, whose offspring hatch relatively quickly and don’t take long to fledge, having two broods in a season in this part of the country is normal. There is plenty of time to raise two families, and then fatten up for the migration south or, for many year-round species, to stock up on food for the winter.

Studies have found that northern birds of a given species tend to have fewer broods than southern birds, yet all produce around the same number of young per season.

In the North, for instance, Eastern Bluebirds typically have two broods. In the South, because the warm, insect-filled season is longer, bluebirds often have three broods.

Nevertheless, both northern and southern bluebirds produce about the same number of offspring per season because bluebirds in the North lay more eggs per brood than bluebirds in the South. A pair of Connecticut bluebirds might have two nestings, each with five babies, while a North Carolina bluebird couple might have three nestings with three eggs each. The result is about the same.

Did the southern birds work harder? They had more nestings, but fewer mouths to feed at each. Moreover, they probably did not migrate as far, if at all, to set up home.

(Photo of bluebird parent arriving with food for babies is by Kevin M. Doyle.)

Survival of a bright red beacon

2009-07-18T17:55:00.006-04:00

A male cardinal is the most common, North American “animal” of size that is virtually all red, a color used by few wildlife species hereabouts. We have a few small red beetles and salamanders plus several birds, like tanagers, that mix bright red with other others, but what else is almost all-red?

Ornithologists say male cardinals have probably evolved their bright, distinctive color to attract female cardinals. However, how do they survive so well in the wild with such a rare, flashy outfit that, even among the fully leaved trees of summer, seems to stand out like a sore thumb?

Hawks see red. Why, then, don’t they decimate the population of male cardinals, which seem to do little to hide themselves, especially in winter when the deciduous trees have no leaves for cover.

The answer probably lies in our own perception of color vs. a bird’s perception.
“Birds see very differently from the way that we do,” notes Chris Elphick, assistant professor of ecology and evolutionary biology at the University of Connecticut.

“They see into the ultraviolet ranges and have different types of receptor cells in their eyes, so a bird that seems the brightest to us is not necessarily the brightest to another bird -- such as a hawk.

“How a hawk sees a cardinal -- or anything else -- is thus hard for us to conceive,” he adds.

An evolutionary biologist named John Endler found that how a color looks can depend on surrounding colors because of the wavelengths of light that are absorbed by the environment. Thus, in the forest full of green, red light tends to be absorbed, so red objects would not stand out the way they would against, for instance, a snowy background. “This phenomenon helps explain why scarlet tanagers -- or any number of warblers -- can be so hard to pick out even when there are not leaves obscuring them,” Professor Elphick observes.

He adds: “It’s important to remember that evolution always involves a balance between benefits and costs. Being conspicuous has potential costs -- e.g., increased predation risk -- but if those risks are balanced by greater benefits -- e.g., more/better reproductive opportunities -- then maybe that’s OK, evolutionarily speaking.

“Also, hawks are rare relative to cardinals, so even though a cardinal may be vulnerable when it encounters a hawk, there may be enough cardinals that do not have such encounters that the selection pressure to be less conspicuous is not as great as it might seem. And, of course, just because a cardinal is seen by a hawk doesn’t mean it will get caught.”

Laura Erickson, science editor at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, notes that hawks can definitely see red. “But they can see a whole spectrum of colors, and much of their favored prey is more muted in color, so there is no good reason for hawks to focus on cardinals.

“Cardinals, like Scarlet Tanagers, spend much of their time hidden in foliage, and it’s very difficult for even accipiters [bird hawks] to grasp prey from the branches that cardinals favor.

“Goldfinch or Prothonotary Warbler yellow, Blue Jay blue, and oriole orange are almost certainly at least as vivid to a hawk’s eyes.

“The brilliant colors of many birds, especially when found on males only, tend to be territorial and sex signals. Of course, birds do tend to be safer when not noticeable to anything, so many of the most brilliant birds do molt out of those bright colors during the non-breeding season. New feathers on male Northern Cardinals are edged with brown, and the tips wear away to reveal the brightest red at the end of winter/early spring. But Baltimore Orioles and Blue Jays stay in their bright feathers year round.”

Laura adds, no doubt with a smile, “You know what color is even rarer than red in the bird world? Pink. Apparently, birds shun Mary Kay cosmetics, too.”

Funky nests

2009-07-13T17:46:00.003-04:00

You can find them in hanging flower baskets, an old boot, a garage shelf, or under a bridge -- birds build nests in the strangest places, note the folks at Cornell Lab of Ornithology. As part of their Celebrate Urban Birds project, the Lab is sponsoring “Funky Nests in Funky Places!” competition.

Celebrate Urban Birds is a free, year-round citizen-science project, focused on birds in neighborhood settings. While we are much more “suburban” than “urban,” Cornell points out, “We will gladly accept data from all locations, including suburbs, small towns, small cities, as well as large cities. It is exciting for us to receive data from a large variety of ‘Green Spaces.’”

For the Funky Nests in Funky Places challenge, the lab wants you to take photos, do a painting, write a story, or shoot a video showing a bird’s nest built in some out-of-the-way or out-of-this-world place. “When observing nests please be sure to avoid touching them or disturbing the birds,” Cornell adds.

There are prizes for the best shots, including a Leica C-Lux 3 compact camera, bird feeders, shrubs for planting, and more.

To enter, email your entry to urbanbirds@cornell.edu. Links are acceptable for videos. Write “Funky Nests” in the subject line. Include your name and mailing address. Explain why you submitted your entry -- what's the story behind it?

Deadline for entries is July 31.

Visit the Celebrate Urban Birds website, birds.cornell.edu/celebration/ for more information.

Where did all my birds go?

2009-05-28T07:43:00.004-04:00

Readers over the years have reported sudden changes in the numbers of the usually common birds they’ve had at their feeders or in their yards, including Black-capped Chickadees, American Goldfinches, Blue Jays, Purple Finches, and even crows.
Among the factors that can change what shows up in your yard are:

The neighborhood food supply. Feeders are only a fraction of the food source for birds. A change in the natural food supply can make a lot of difference in their local bird populations. For instance, last season’s acorn crop was apparently not a large one hereabouts. The mast, the annual production of tree nuts in a region, can vary from year to year, and a low mast year can drastically affect populations of Blue Jays as well as mammals, such as squirrels and chipmunks. Blue Jays are major consumers of acorns (and may plant more oak trees than do squirrels, which get all the credit). Wild Turkeys are also big acorn-eaters; wonder how they are doing.
Neighborhood habitat. Changes in the places where birds nest, roost and feed can vary the population. For example, some birds like evergreens for roosting and nesting. If someone cut down, or disease killed, a noticeable number of evergreens in the area, certain species might become less common.
Predator changes. A hawk or perhaps even an owl deciding to nest in the middle of an area popular with song birds would discourage the songbirds from hanging around. Even something as seemingly innocuous as a family cat – and worse, feral cats – can affect the bird population in a small area. (The number of birds killed by pet cats each year would astound most people.)
Man-made environmental changes. Obviously, major sources of noise, light, or air pollution can affect local bird populations. Set up a rock crusher next to a stand of trees that have sheltered birds for years, and you will undoubtedly chase them all away. But less obvious changes can occur. For example, spraying trees for caterpillars may kill many of the insects the birds feed on, forcing them to look elsewhere.
Disease. Of course, disease can affect local and regional populations of birds. We saw just recently many reports of Pine Siskins dying, probably from Salmonellosis. West Nile virus, to which corvids seem more susceptible to than many other species, may be lowering the jay population.

Bird populations fluctuate naturally, mostly due to changes in food supplies. However, any change is of interest to ornithologists, and that’s why the Cornell Lab of Ornithology has set up programs like Project Feeder Watch, in which “citizen scientists” – you and I – regularly report what we see out our windows each cold-weather season to the professional scientists in Ithaca. To find out more about Project Feeder Watch, visit birds.cornell.edu/pfw/

The mob

2009-04-21T17:51:00.002-04:00

When an enemy approaches, many birds react with a technique called “mobbing.” Crows are famous and vociferous mobbers, ganging up and screaming at hawks or owls.

For years, scientists considered this mostly a method of chasing away predators.

But Eberhard Curio, a German scientist, wondered. He set up a special cage with two blackbirds, a stuffed owl, and a soda bottle. Only Blackbird A could see the owl while Blackbird B could see Blackbird A and the soda bottle. Blackbird A angrily yelled at the owl, while Blackbird B saw only the yelling bird and the bottle, and figured Blackbird A was yelling at the bottle. Blackbird B later taught Blackbird C to fear the bottle, and Blackbird C then taught Blackbird D, and so on.

The curious Curio concluded that mobbing blackbirds were acting as tutors, teaching birds to “know thine enemy.” So the next time you see a dozen crows mobbing a hawk, you may actually be witnessing a big outdoor seminar.

To feed or not to feed

2009-04-17T17:10:00.003-04:00

Each spring, many people take down their feeders for the season. There is plenty of natural food around, they figure, so why spend money on seeds?

Actually, plenty of food is almost always. Except in the direst conditions, such as a blizzard with deep snow and subzero temperatures, year-round birds can find enough food to survive our winters; otherwise, they wouldn’t be here in cold season.

For the birds, our feeders are added conveniences, be it summer, fall, winter or spring. For us, they are entertainment, as well as a source of knowledge about the wildlife around us.

The truth is, we feed the birds because it’s fun, not because they need our food.

However, there are arguments for not feeding in the early spring through late autumn. One arrived last week in the form of a warning from the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection: it’s Black Bear season.

Bears have emerged from their winter dens and are wandering the countryside, looking for food and mates. Bird seed at feeders (along with garbage cans and outdoor grills) attract them.

“Homeowners can often prevent bear problems by making unavailable or simply removing food attractants that draw bears,” DEP said.

Most inland towns in Fairfield County, Connecticut, and Westchester County, New York, have annual bear sightings nowadays – Ridgefield had 11 last year, Wilton, 7, Redding, 3, Weston, 1, and New Canaan, 1, DEP records say. A Ridgefielder had two feeders torn down last fall by what was probably a bear (see photo).

Black Bears are shy and rarely get involved with humans. Some people would consider a bear in the yard exciting, but others would rather see these critters, weighing hundreds of pounds, only in a zoo. If that’s you, take down your feeder now.

Another problem with year-round feeding is disease. Warm weather can exacerbate the transmission of diseases, especially those involving bacteria like salmonella. Disease can come from seeds on the ground that develop molds and/or that have been tainted with feces.

Safe, warm-weather feeding requires maintenance: regular cleaning of the feeders as well as of the ground beneath them, especially if you use seeds with shells.

Some people don’t put out feed in the summer and fall because they think it will delay the departure of migratory songbirds, which may then perish in cold weather. However, scientists believe the changing length of the day – more light in spring, less in fall – triggers migration, no matter how much food is available locally.

Yard aficionados who like their lawns to look like putting greens eschew warm weather feeding, especially with sunflower seeds, because of the mess it can make. The husks of whole sunflower seeds, for instance, contain a poison that kills grass.

On the plus side, attracting birds to the yard in summer helps control many kinds of pest insects.

Bird-feeding in warm weather pretty much boils down to whether you want to do it, can afford to do it, and are willing to do it safely. If you are neat, clean and aren’t afraid of bears, feed on!

Sick siskins

2009-04-09T17:39:00.005-04:00

We've gotten many reports of Pine Siskins this winter and early spring. The incredible irruption of these northern birds into southern territories is like none in recent years, and siskins are still here as of April 7.

But this big crowd of birds has brought with it a problem – aside from breaking our birdseed budgets with their gluttonous consumption. Siskins may be prone to disease.

Kathy Cory of South Salem, N.Y. tells us, “I noticed a lethargic siskin in the yard this morning, which perished soon after. That's the second dead one in the yard this week, and I remembered seeing another sickly one a few weeks ago.

“I have learned that they are very susceptible to salmonella, possibly from dirty bird feeders. Since all of us have had very busy bird feeders this winter, perhaps we need to be more diligent than usual about cleaning them. Could it be the feeders or is there another force at work out there?”

On the Connecticut bird hotline, sick siskins have been a hot topic.

Julie Keefer of Lyme said there were “a lot of reports of siskins dying in North Carolina this winter and I think it was pretty much a mystery as to why.” She wonders whether the ones succumbing here caught their fatal disease in the South – the ones we are seeing now may be migrating north and are not necessarily the same birds that were at our feeders in winter.

Paul Carrier, a Harwinton naturalist and wildlife artist who found dead siskins in his yard recently, said, “As we feed the birds from the same feeders continually in one spot all winter, it is not natural. The accumulation of husks and spillage under the feeders will eventually become a breeding ground for molds and disease, especially as it gets warmer. We all must clean up under the feeders as much as we can now that it’s warmer out.”

Paul added, “thistle is a very fast decomposing seed (husks), especially when wet. These I believe are the culprit to the sickness in these siskins, especially when they eat them from the ground. When it is cold, the seeds don't grow molds and such. But when wet and warm, they become instant breeding grounds for disaster!”

Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Project Feeder Watch has been getting many similar reports. “As often happens in birds that feed and roost in tight flocks, there have been outbreaks of salmonella reported in some Pine Siskin flocks,” Cornell said. “Salmonellosis is caused by a bacteria... It is a common cause of mortality in feeder birds, but the symptoms are not always obvious. Sick birds may appear thin, fluffed up, and may have swollen eyelids. They are often lethargic and easy to approach. Some infected birds may show no outward symptoms but are carriers of the disease and can spread the infection to other birds.”

Salmonellosis is mainly transmitted by fecal contamination of food and water by sick birds, though it can also be transmitted by bird-to-bird contact, Cornell says. Occasionally, outbreaks cause “significant mortality.”

Cornell says, “Clean your feeders about once every two weeks, more often during times of heavy use. For best results wash your feeder thoroughly in soapy water, then soak or rinse it in a solution of one part bleach to nine parts water. Dry the feeder thoroughly before refilling.”

It adds, “Remember to rake the ground below your feeder to prevent accumulation of waste. Moldy or spoiled food is unhealthy, not only for birds but for your outside pets. Bird food scattered on the ground also can attract rodents. Consider moving your feeders periodically to limit the accumulation of waste.”

One hotline participant said sunflower chips, which siskins love, have the advantage of not having hulls to get moldy and diseased on the ground.

The threats to birds

2009-04-03T17:38:00.002-04:00

Nearly a third of the nation's 800 bird species are endangered, threatened or in significant decline due to habitat loss, invasive species, and other threats, says a new report on bird populations.

"Just as they were when Rachel Carson published Silent Spring nearly 50 years ago, birds today are a bellwether of the health of land, water and ecosystems," said U.S. Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar in releasing The U.S. State of the Birds, the most comprehensive study of its kind.

"From shorebirds in New England to warblers in Michigan to songbirds in Hawaii, we are seeing disturbing downward population trends that should set off environmental alarm bells. We must work together now to ensure we never hear the deafening silence in our forests, fields and backyards that Rachel Carson warned us about."

The report also said habitat restoration and conservation have reversed previous declines in many species of waterfowl, such as pelicans, herons, egrets, osprey (pictured above), and ducks.

"These results emphasize that investment in wetlands conservation has paid huge dividends," said Kenneth Rosenberg, director of conservation science at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

"Now we need to invest similarly in other neglected habitats where birds are undergoing the steepest declines."

The report combines data from three long-running bird censuses conducted by thousands of citizen scientists and professional biologists. It indicates a 40% decline in grassland birds over the past 40 years, a 30% decline in birds of aridlands, and high concern for many coastal shorebirds. Also, 39% species dependent on U.S. oceans have declined.

Dr. David Pashley, American Bird Conservancy's vice president for conservation programs, said, "In addition to habitat loss, birds also face many other man-made threats such as pesticides, predation by cats, and collisions with windows, towers and buildings. By solving these challenges we can preserve a growing economic engine – the popular pastime of bird watching that involves millions of Americans – and improve our quality of life."

Surveys conducted by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and U.S. Geological Survey, including the annual Breeding Bird Survey, combined with data gathered through volunteer citizen science program such as the National Audubon Society's Christmas Bird Count, show once abundant birds like the Northern Bobwhite and Marbled Murrelet are declining significantly, and may become extinct.

"Citizen science plays a critical role in monitoring and understanding the threats to these birds and their habitats, and only citizen involvement can help address them," said National Audubon Society's Bird Conservation Director, Greg Butcher. "Conservation action can only make a real difference when concerned people support the kind of vital habitat restoration and protection measures this report explores."

The report is available at www.stateofthebirds.org.

Wooing Mrs. Nuthatch

2009-03-21T08:05:00.001-04:00

Bird watching can be a lot more than just identifying what shows up in the yard. A good bird watcher also notices what the birds are doing.

Nine-year-old Blythe Filaski of Ridgefield is a good bird watcher. “Recently, I spotted two nuthatches on my pear tree,” Blythe writes. “The nuthatches must have been mates, because their bills were together, almost as if they were kissing. I think they were sharing seed.”

Blythe was lucky enough to observe an interesting courtship behavior of the White-breasted Nuthatch. Here is how Arthur C. Bent described a pair of nuthatches 60 years ago:

“All through the winter the pair has lived not far apart, feeding within hearing of each other, but the male has paid little attention to his mate; in fact, on the food shelf, he has shown dominance over her; but now in the lengthening, warmer days of spring, he becomes actively engaged over her comfort.

“A real courtship begins: He carries food to her and places it in her bill, he stores bits of nut in crevices of bark for her convenience, and he often addresses his singing directly to her. Standing back to her, he bows slowly downward as he sings, then in the interval before another song he straightens up, then bows as he sings again. The songs come with perfect regularity over and over again and can thus be recognized even in the distance as the courtship song.”

Ornithologists have been fascinated by this behavior in many species, including cardinals and hawks. Of course, on the simplest level, it can be taken as a way of wooing a mate by making her happy – just as men often take women out to dinner on dates.

However, scientists see more in the behavior. The food exchange not only develops pair bonding, but may also help convince the female that her mate will be a good provider during the forthcoming nesting period.

“Increasing evidence suggests that females who receive more food from their mates lay larger clutches” of eggs, wrote David W. Winkler, in Handbook of Bird Biology (Cornell Lab of Ornithology, 2004). “Mate feeding probably makes it possible for a female to raise more young, by keeping her in good condition and allowing her to put more energy into feeding the young.”

In other words, a nice dinner now may mean more and healthier kids later.
So, for the nuthatch and many other species, “the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.”

Birds hitting windows

2009-03-19T17:52:00.004-04:00

Birds hitting windows is a common problem. Depending on the lighting, a window – even a relatively small one – can behave like a mirror. A bird in a hurry, such as one threatened, can mistake the window for open spaces.

With most household windows and doors, a crash happens only rarely, if ever. However, if you have windows – particularly picture windows – that birds regularly collide with, consider a product like Window Alert. These are plastic decals that are virtually invisible to humans on the inside of the house, but are very visible to birds on the outside.

According to the manufacturer, “The decal contains a component which brilliantly reflects ultraviolet sunlight. This ultraviolet light is invisible to humans, but glows like a stoplight for birds.”

The product functions sort of like those advertising coatings that you see on commercial vans and city buses that cover not only the metal surfaces of the vehicle but also the windows. People inside can see out perfectly well, though from the outside the window looks like part of a sign.

The decals, which come in various shapes including leaves and snowflakes, are sold in many stores that serve bird watchers and feeders. For more information, see windowalert.com.

Bundling bluebirds

2009-03-18T19:12:00.004-04:00

A correspondent in my home town recently reported a remarkable example of birds’ dealing with the cold.

“Recently, on a day when outside looked very white as snow was falling and already covering the ground, my husband and I witnessed a burst of color. Late in the afternoon, we saw about eight bluebirds sitting in the tree near our birdfeeders. Much to our surprise, some of them visited our feeders. This was our first experience at seeing bluebirds do this so we knew they must be very hungry.

“Most interesting, however, was what happened as the sun set. We witnessed a well-organized entry into a bluebird house at the edge of our yard. At least five of the birds seemed to squeeze themselves into the little house. Since that evening, we have observed this behavior several more times. We are delighted to provide shelter for our little friends.”

A number of species practice communal “bundling,” as the old New Englanders called snuggling on a cold winter’s night, but this was the first time I’ve heard of bluebirds doing it.

A check of Arthur C. Bent’s venerable and huge (21 volume) series, Life Histories of Familiar North American Birds, provides some interesting accounts of bluebirds in similar situations.

Bent quotes an item in a 1937 Springfield, Mass., newspaper, "Mr. Cross of Huntington has a photograph of 22 bluebirds together which, caught in a heavy spring snowstorm, lived upon sumac berries and, between feedings, snuggled together, all fluffed up, on a small dead branch in the shelter of a building."

Bent quotes Edward H. Forbush reporting in 1929, "In western Massachusetts and in Vermont during the late spring storms, many bluebirds have died huddled together in hollow trees, where they sought refuge from fury of the gale. During a storm, a lady in Stowe, Vt., heard a bluebird calling in her living room and found two in the stove. They had sought shelter in the chimney and had come down the stovepipe."

But perhaps the most amazing story – if it can be believed – came from that 1937 Springfield newspaper: "On March 28, a pair of bluebirds came to the feeding station of Charles J. Anderson, 24 Eddywood Ave., Springfield, and after eating began to flutter and peck at the window. It was cold outside, so after talking to them through the glass, Mrs. Anderson let them in. The male was hardy, but the female manifestly required warmth. She was given warm milk to drink, and warbled her thanks. For three days, while the cold spell lasted, she returned periodically to get warm inside the room."

The hungry hawks

2009-03-16T18:08:00.006-04:00

The striking Rich Josephs photograph of this of a Red-tailed Hawk consuming a crow is a dramatic example of why hawks and other raptors were once hated and hunted. Hawks, owls and eagles feed on a variety of birds and smaller mammals. For hawks and owls, at least, mammals and birds are their primary source of food.

Catching squirrels, rabbits, mice, and birds in the wild is often not easy, and requires skill, stealth and timing. More often than not, the raptor is unsuccessful and the prey escapes.

When farmers took over much of the landscape in the 18^th and 19^th Centuries, they eliminated some raptor prey, but also introduced others. What’s more, some of the new fare were easy pickings.

Chickens were so popular with some hawk species that any hawk that attacked domesticated fowl was called a “chicken hawk.” However, the Red-tailed Hawk was probably what farmers saw most, and was the most feared “chicken hawk.”

In a way, this is unusual. Red-tails are not true “bird hawks.” Many Accipiters like the Sharp-shinned and Cooper’s Hawks feed primarily on birds and are designed to catch them on the wing – they are smaller, sleeker and have long tails that allow them to maneuver quickly. By comparison, the bigger Red-tailed Hawk is not as agile. It can catch an occasional crow or waterfowl, but it’s unlikely a Red-tail could nail the chickadee or titmouse that a Sharpie can catch.
When the European farmers arrived, they provided virtually flightless fowl to the native raptors. Domesticated chickens were slow, fat and tasty. It was Red-tail heaven – until the farmers got good guns. Hawks were treated as vermin, bounties were paid for their bodies, and countless numbers of them were killed.

Even in modern-day Ridgefield, “chicken hawks” are at work. Last fall, we got a call from Wendy Llewellyn who had recently returned to maintaining full-sized, egg-laying chickens at her home. One day, “they were making strange noises,” she said. She looked outside and “there was what I assume was a hawk, trying to take off with one of them,” Wendy said. “I ran out and the hawk dropped the chicken.”

A week earlier, her cat had been limping. “When I brought her to the vet, he said she looked like she had been in a fight and was covered with lacerations,” Wendy said, wondering whether it was a tom cat – or the hungry hawk.

Small mammals are the main fare of the Red-tail, our most common hawk, and if the opportunity arises, the Red-tail may attack small dogs and cats.

“Large raptors, such as Red-tailed Hawks and Great Horned Owls, can indeed kill a small pet,” says Hawks Aloft, a raptor conservation organization. “We have received dozens of inquiries about six-pound dogs, ten-pound dogs, etc., all the way up to a 60-pound dog. There is no specific cut-off weight at which your pet’s safety is guaranteed. If the size of your dog or cat is similar to or not much larger than naturally occurring raptor prey, there is a risk.”

Early one morning a couple years ago, I was walking our nine-pound Chihuahua, Charley, down the road when suddenly I saw a Red-tail flying straight at us, only about eight feet off the ground. I am sure he was eying Charley, who was about 10 feet ahead of me on a leash. However, as soon as the hawk noticed me, he veered upward and headed off into the woods.

We never leave Charley alone in the yard. He and any other small dog or cat could be lunch for not only large raptors, but coyotes, the recently reintroduced Fishers (large, mammal-eating weasels), perhaps foxes, and maybe even cougars (reliably sighted in Ridgefield last year).

So keep Fido and Kitty indoors or under surveillance.

Saving money on feeding birds

2008-11-17T19:31:00.002-05:00

With everyone economizing in these tight times, feeding the birds may seem a luxury that should be shelved until “prosperity” returns.

Certainly, the birds don’t need our food to survive winter, except perhaps in unusually severe conditions. Most of their food is obtained from the wild, not feeders.

Nonetheless, bird feeding is one of North America’s most popular pastimes, with an estimated 55 million people owning feeders. The reason most people feed the birds is the close-up connection with nature that it offers. Feeding birds are simply fun to watch. And in these times, we could use some fun!

So let’s feed with efficiency as well as economy. With that in mind, here are some suggestions.

Perhaps the most important consideration in having an efficient feeding station is squirrels. These wily rodents can quickly consume large amounts of expensive seed. Make sure your feeder is absolutely squirrel proof — which is not impossible. The best setup I’ve found is mounting on a six-foot pole, away from nearby trees (from which the squirrels can leap), and using a cone to prevent their climbing up the pole (see photo). There hasn’t been a squirrel on our feeder in years.

Use a feeder that distributes the seeds efficiently and does not allow them to spill onto the ground. Some tube feeders tend to be wasteful. I like a feeder that provides a platform for the birds to land on and carefully pick a seed, without spilling or tossing others on the ground.

Some people don’t like large birds like Mourning Doves or Blue Jays hogging the food. You can buy feeders aimed at only small birds. This will, of course, reduce overall seed consumption, but also reduces the variety of birds you’ll see.

To minimize waste, buy seeds that your birds like. The best all-around food is hulled (shelled) sunflower seeds, but these may be beyond your budget. Whole black oil sunflower seeds are cheaper than hulled, but more expensive than mixes. However, cheap mixes may contain many “filler” seeds that are thrown away by popular feeder birds. They wind up as food for squirrels, chipmunks and maybe even mice on the ground.

Shop around, of course. I can’t recommend a best source, but I always buy locally instead of on the Internet (who wants to pay shipping on 50 pounds of seed?). Look for fall sales at feed and hardware stores (though bargains are becoming less common as prices rise).

You get the best prices buying in quantity, but make sure you have a cool, dry place in which to store the seeds; otherwise, the seeds can mildew or go rancid, and you wind up wasting money on spoiled seeds that birds won’t eat or, worse, may get sick eating. Put the seeds in a strong sealed container like a big garbage can, so that they won’t attract mice or squirrels (even in your cellar or garage).

Many birds love suet. I’ve found that the “suet cakes” sold commercially do not last long — often, they have crumbled within a few days under hard whacks of visiting woodpeckers. I use real suet, the stuff butchers cut off beef. It lasts much longer and is enjoyed by a half dozen varieties of birds. Not many years ago, suet was something that butchers mostly considered waste. Some was packaged at 10 or 25 cents a pound and sold to savvy bird feeding customers. Today, meat arrives at most markets already “de-fatted,” and the butchers actually have to buy the suet from wholesalers! Thus, you will see suet prices that would have amazed an old-time butcher — a couple of dollars a pound for something they used to throw away or send to rendering plants. Nonetheless, in the long run, real suet may still be less expensive and more efficient than cake suet.

Don’t waste money on a suet feeder. Use a mesh bag that produce, such as onions, garlic and avocados, is packaged in. Dispose of it after it’s been used for a while. When you buy suet, get the butcher to cut up the chunks into one-inch cubes, which are easier to fit into small mesh bags.

The wise and wary corvids

2008-09-08T07:14:00.003-04:00

Many people have remarked on the story that appeared in a recent issue of The New York Times about a scientist’s discovering that crows can recognize individual human faces, but a perhaps more remarkable account of crow intelligence appears in the current issue of Bird Watcher’s Digest

It’s long been known that the corvids – crows, ravens, magpies, and jays – are quite smart, doing things like using tools and employing automobile traffic to break open nuts.

The Times story told of a wildlife biologist at the University of Washington who did an experiment in which crows on campus were trapped and banded by students wearing a “caveman” rubber mask. A Dick Cheney mask was used as a “neutral” mask by students not involved in the trapping.

In the weeks and months that followed, student volunteers who walked around campus with caveman masks were yelled at by the crows, which ignored the Cheney-masked students. Two years later, the number of crows recognizing the caveman mask as dangerous had spread to many birds that had never been trapped, indicating that parents and others in the community had taught offspring that this was a dangerous face.

In the current Bird Watcher’s Digest, columnist David Bird (yes, his real name – he’s a professor of wildlife biology at McGill University in Toronto) recounts an experience witnessed by ornithologist Russ Balda, which appeared recently in The Wilson Journal of Ornithology.

Mr. Balda was watching a crow eating seeds on a large platform feeder in Flagstaff, Ariz. Unlike other birds that came and went, the crow just stood there, hogging the feeder.

A Steller’s Jay landed on the edge of the platform and started scolding the crow for about 10 seconds. The crow ignored the pest, so the jay got closer and started making feinting movements at the crow. The crow then turned and faced the jay, which backed off.

The crow resumed eating, but the jay kept returning and repeating its harassment performance. Then the jay tried aerial techniques, swooping down on the crow a couple of times, without actual body contact.

After that didn’t work, the jay did something that astounded Mr. Balda. It flew to a mahogany tree and broke off a twig about four inches long. With the twig in its mouth and the narrow end pointed outward, the jay landed on the platform and lunged at the crow, narrowly missing it with the stick.

The crow jumped toward the jay, which dropped the twig and moved backward. The crow then picked up the twig and lunged at the jay!

The jay then took off, followed by the twig-wielding crow in hot pursuit.

In effect, and perhaps in fact, both the jay and the crow were employing a weapon – perhaps the first time this kind of “combat” has ever been observed, at least, by a scientist.

Weapon use of a different sort – bombing – has been observed in a couple of species. Professor Bird points out that Black Eagles have been recorded dropping sticks on the heads of intruders to their nests. “A female American Crow was observed dropping pine cones, not once but three times, onto the head of a human climber ascending to its nest,” he said.

Corvids’ using tools has been widely reported, and of course, a weapon can be considered a form of tool, but the Flagstaff indicate was different.

“Balda's observation may indeed be the first incident of a bird holding an object in a weapon-like fashion to undertake an aggressive action against another bird,” Professor Bird said.

He adds, “It was a pity that the crow did not have its own stick to duel with the jay.”

Two-ton snakes

2008-07-24T07:11:00.003-04:00

What is it about snakes?

Is it that they are legless and armless, so much different from our well-appendaged selves? Is it because they slither so low and we walk so tall?

Or is it just that we fear some rattler or copperhead will sink its fangs into a leg and send us to the Great Beyond?

Prejudice, pure and simple. The snake is a wonderful creature that spends its days making our lives better by gobbling up rats, mice, shrews, voles, and other vermin.

Fear not our snakes. Fear, instead, a real killer: the shiny, glittering, ordinary, everyday automobile.

Over the past century, cars have killed scores of people in my own little town. Not one person has died of snakebite – or even snake-fright.

Mousetrap in a tree

2008-07-09T17:43:00.001-04:00

If you were to go walking in the woods on a moonlit night, a dog in a tree might watch you.

More likely, though, the gray fox would have slipped far away before you were anywhere near being seen by him. He would not have been pressed to run up a tree – a feat he can easily accomplish, unique among North American canines.

No, the fox would have heard you coming from a long distance off. Sensitive ears, able to detect a mouse squeak at 300 feet, help make him a valuable pest-control device. Vermin like rats and mice are among its favorite foods and, as disease and tick carriers, one of our least favorite visitors.

Early in the morning, in the pre-dawn light, you may spot the long, low form of a gray fox winding around your lawn, ears up, nose down, a four-footed mousetrap.

Mating matters

2008-06-23T18:13:00.003-04:00

The season of nesting is a good time to take a look at the kinds of male-female relationships that exist in the bird world. Many birds form lifetime partnerships – though they may have quick “flings” on the side – while others mate for only short periods or have multiple mates.

Ornithologists describe three kinds of mating arrangements: monogamous, polygamous and promiscuous. In monogamous pair bonds, the birds mate for at least the breeding season, raising their young together. Ornithologist David Lack estimated that at least 90% of nest-raised birds come from monogamous pairs. So do 80% of precocial birds – those able to walk about and feed themselves shortly after birth.

In many, perhaps most cases, monogamous pairs remain mated until one of them dies. Canada Geese are among the most faithful birds, mating for as long as 20 years. Most gulls also pair for life. The Rose-breasted Grosbeaks at the left are monogamous. This system is the most efficient and effective, providing the best protection and service for the brood of nestlings.

Some birds, such as House Wrens, generally stay with one mate for only one brood. In fact, while the male is raising the first brood, the female may take off, find a new mate, and begin a second nest. Talk about energy!

In the case of polygamous pair bonds, one male or one female may have several mates. In the more common arrangement, like the harems of lore, one male has several females. This is called polygyny. Wild Turkeys, Ring-necked pheasants, grouse, Bobolinks, and Red-winged Blackbirds are polygynous. The male generally sticks with and protects his several wives and their offspring while each female takes care of raising the children. This system is more selective than one-on-one mating; The one male that is able to build a harem of several females will be stronger and perhaps healthier than the average male and will likely pass on these traits to offspring.

In a few species, the female makes use of several mates. The Spotted Sandpiper lays eggs in several nests and the males incubate them. This system, called polyandry, allows one female to produce many eggs and is useful in situations where the breeding season is short, such as in the Arctic.

Promiscuous mating occurs when two birds have sexual relations and part company. Typically, and perhaps not surprisingly, the male takes off, leaving it up to the female to raise the resulting family. The most famous practitioners of promiscuous mating are the hummingbirds and woodcocks. Dr. Steve Kress, a noted ornithologist with National Audubon, says that typically, either the brood is small, such as in hummingbirds, allowing the female to raise the chicks alone, or the offspring are precocial, as in woodcocks, able to walk and feed themselves soon after birth.

For a long time ornithologists thought that monogamous birds were totally faithful to one another. However, DNA testing and close observation have revealed that monogamous birds may have fleeting “affairs” with other partners.

Zoologist David Barash and Judith Eve Lipton reported in The Myth of Monogamy in 2001: “When it comes to actual reproduction, even bird species long considered the epitome of social monogamy, and thus previously known for their fidelity, are now being revealed as sexual adventurers. Or at least as sexually non-monogamous.” These include eagles and geese, long thought to be strictly monogamous.

Swans, doves, finches, hawks, wrens, flycatchers, thrushes, and warblers occasionally switch from monogamous to polygamous pair bonds.

What happens when a mate dies during the nesting season?

Birds that form monogamous pairs do so largely to share in the job of raising young. Nesting season is a dangerous time, full of threats to the parents as well as the eggs and nestlings. Predators, as well as disease and accidents, may kill birds, leaving a widow or widower to care for the nest. Among monogamous pairs, it’s difficult or impossible for one bird to find food and protect the nest.

Fortunately, there are what ornithologists Allan and Helen Cruickshank call “a floating population” of unmated birds that are available – even anxious – to jump in and replace missing mates.

Happy hummers

2008-05-21T19:28:00.006-04:00

The Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are back and, from our own experience at least, there are plenty of them.

For years, Sally and I have had hummingbird feeders of various kinds, and always got a modest showing of Ruby-throats. Last year, because of some modifications to our house, we did not have our usual feeding station.

This year, we decided to try something new: Feeders hanging from windows, one in the kitchen (where we’ve never had one before) and one in the bedroom (which had been our traditional location).

While thumbing through a Kinsman Garden Company catalogue last winter, I noticed “super suction hangers.” “Bring your hummingbird feeders right up to your window glass and enjoy a super close-up view, with this high quality suction hanger,” Kinsman said.

Our previous feeders were hung from steel swing arms mounted solidly to the house. The catalogue said the suction hangers could safely handle feeders (or small plants) up to three pounds. They were only $6.95 so I ordered two.

I wanted some equally affordable feeders, and checked the master maker of hummingbird feeders: Perky-Pet (an odd name for a company specializing in wild bird feeders). There, among more than 50 (!) hummingbird feeders, I found Model 211, a plastic unit holding eight ounces and costing a mere $6.99. (Model 201 costs only $5.99, but it holds 18 ounces, which, in our territory is too much – more on that below).

So in April, I hung both feeders, one on a kitchen window 10 feet from the ground – it’s raised and lowered with a line – and one on the bedroom bay window, which can be reached by a crank-open side window. We waited a couple weeks, sighting only a couple of male hummers stopping on their way north. Then suddenly last week, the females arrived.

Now from before dawn till dusk, we have hummingbirds visiting both feeders. Often two show up at once and one winds up chasing the other away – typical territorial behavior. Having two feeders at different sides of the house may allow two females to set up nearby nesting territories and each to have the convenient food source.

The window mounts let us to observe all this activity as close as a foot or two away. The small expense – about $30 for two feeders and mounts – is well worth the entertainment these birds provide.

Don’t waste your money on special hummingbird mixes or nectars. Many commercial products use red dye – mostly as a sales gimmick. A red feeder, often with yellow around its openings, is all that is needed to attract hummingbirds; red fluid is unnecessary.

To make your own effective, inexpensive nectar, mix a quarter cup of white sugar with a cup of water. (Do not use brown sugar, honey or other sweeteners.)

Some people recommend boiling the water from public supplies to reduce the amount of chlorine – not a problem if you’re on a well.

Change the nectar every few days; in hot weather, even sooner. Potentially harmful bacteria can grow in the solution if left to “ferment” in the sun.

In the East, where there is only one species of hummingbird, feeders holding a small volume of nectar are more practical than big ones. Two or three hummers won’t consume 18 ounces in three or four days, the safe life of the nectar. They probably can’t even handle eight ounces. Out West, where there are many species that are probably not fighting each other for territories, feeders can serve many birds at a time and tend to empty more quickly.

Perky-Pet has a little three-ounce feeder that I will also try. Model 215P costs only $5.99 and is designed to be hung in planters.

Bird Watcher’s Digest has an excellent online guide to hummingbirds, including an extensive collection of “frequently asked questions.” Visit birdwatchersdigest.com, look for “Backyard birds” on the green menu bar, and select “hummingbirds.”

Ash yellows

2008-05-14T18:00:00.004-04:00

For folks with White Ash trees, early May can be a nail-biting time as they wait and wait for the leaves to appear.

Ashes are one of the last native trees to leaf out in the spring. Many are still not out yet.

But ash owners aware of the “ash yellows” are particularly anxious to see leaves in the hopes that this deadly disease has not struck their tree. The result could be a hulk costing many hundreds of dollars to remove.

Ash yellows is a protoplasma, a kind of parasitic bacteria possibly transmitted by beetles, that attacks ashes and can kill them as in as quickly as one year – an amazing feat, considering White Ash may be anywhere from 50 to 100 feet tall, with up to a five foot diameter trunk.

One sign of a diseased tree are “witches’ brooms,” spindly clusters of leaves amid limbs that are otherwise leafless (see picture)

No one knows for sure how it spreads or exactly how it works, and no one has a way of preventing ashes from catching it.

But by now, if your ash has avoided infection, at least leaf buds should be appearing. If not, better plan on calling a tree crew.

Save the wood, though – ash is great in the fireplace.

Scilla season

2008-04-25T07:40:00.002-04:00

Late March and early April is the season for scilla, a pretty wildflower import that is hardy enough to survive freezing nights and conservative enough not to make a weed of itself.

Scilla siberica is a native of the woodlands of Eurasia. A century or so ago, planting its tiny bulbs was all the rage and today, a number of old homesteads in town have sections of lawn that, in early April, turn blue with thousands of small flowers that have spread from those old plantings. If the weather remains cool, the blossoms can last for weeks, providing not only beauty for the eye but nourishment for bees.

Scilla, also known by the rather unattractive name of squill, used to be more common, but some modern owners of antique houses spread weed killers on their lawns, wiping out the old colonies.

They did to scilla what scilla might do to them if they ate it. The word is from the Latin, “to harm,” reflecting the fact that most species are somewhat poisonous – which is actually a boon to gardeners. It explains why, when so many other flowers are gobbled by the hungry deer, scilla blooms brightly and plentifully – as long as lawns remain poison-free.

Sour Swamps

2008-04-15T06:58:00.000-04:00

As winter thaws out of the ground and opens the waters of our swamps, a characteristic sour scent appears. It tickles our noses with a strong smell that is far from perfume, but still has a strange attraction.

We are probably smelling a soup of scents.

Anaerobic bacteria, the kind that thrive in water and soil with little or no oxygen, give off hydrogen sulfide and phosphine gases as they feed on the products of decomposing leaves, grasses and other vegetation from the previous seasons’ plants. Those gases combine with others offered by freshly thawed, but decaying vegetation. Add to the mix the malodorous Skunk Cabbage, and you have a special blend of wetland aromas that can only be found in early spring.

This pungent and pleasant scent signals renewal in these hotbeds of life. Swamps are where the new season really begins, a nursery full of not only stinky bacteria, but countless aquatic and land insects, small fish, amphibians, reptiles, and mollusks that serve as food for other wildlife emerging from dens or arriving by wing.

And so, though it arises from death, this sour scent is really a sign of life.

Treetop visitors

2008-03-26T18:25:00.003-04:00

Spring’s leafless trees are a far cry from Shakespeare's bare ruined choirs of winter. Where late the sweet birds sang is springing to life with song. Those branches are the hotels and summer homes of countless migrants.

The earliest of the tree flowers are blooming. Where there are flowers, there are usually insects. And where “bugs” are, birds are sure to follow. In fact, insects drawn to the early-flowering trees are important food for warblers, tanagers and other small migrants heading north in the weeks to come. Some will stop here to nest for the summer while many others eat and run, heading farther north.

For bird watchers the leafless limbs of early spring are a blessing. The scores of colorful arrivals are much easier to spot without lots of green blocking the view.

So instead of watching spring arrive on the thermometer, dust off the binoculars and point them to the passing parade of treetop visitors.

Why this weed is a winner

2008-03-21T18:09:00.001-04:00

Got one of those March colds? In the old days, you might have turned to a March weed for help.

Many roadsides will soon be lined with Coltsfoot, a wildflower whose bright yellow blooms are often mistaken for dandelions.

Although it’s colorful and among the earliest and hardiest of the spring wildflowers, Coltsfoot was imported from Europe not for its beauty, but for its alleged abilities as a cough medicine. Its generic name, Tussilago, means “cough dispeller,” and for centuries its juices were used like Pertussin or Robitussin (notice those coughing “tusses”) from the drug store. Ailing New England children in the 19th Century were fed Coltsfoot drops, made of plant extract and sugar.

Don’t do it today, however. Modern research suggests ingesting Coltsfoot may cause liver tumors.

Instead, enjoy Coltsfoot for a different characteristic. The import has adapted to some of the worst soils North America can offer. The most likely place to see it is in within a foot or two of highway pavement – soil permeated with winter sand and salt, oils from asphalt and cars, and, yes, litter.

If there’s a terrain in need of beautifying, it’s our roadsides, especially in spring when we are hungry for outdoor color. This post-winter weed is a winner.

Notes on knots

2008-03-17T18:27:00.004-04:00

While some may say there is no such thing as a good knot, some knots are not as bad as other knots.

Two kinds of knots may pop up in – or out of – your wood: red knots and black knots.

Red knots are formed by branches that were living when the tree was cut down. Black knots are the remains of branches that died – perhaps a hundred or more years before the tree was felled. The black is the bark and pitch that surrounded the once-living branch and was subsequently enveloped by the tree as the trunk grew wider.

Knotty pine, the paneling so fashionable in the 1940s and ’50s, owed its design to red knots, which are well-fastened to the wood around them. Black knots, however, tend to loosen and pop out.

To most woodworkers, especially furniture-makers, all knots are bad. Because they expand and contract differently from the wood around them, and may have different densities, they can lead to uneven finishes and often weakened structures. Black knots can simply fall out, resulting in knot holes, which can significantly weaken the wood and, in a table top or door, provide an awkward opening.

So especially if it’s black, you would not want a wood knot.

Stinky spring sign

2008-03-05T18:19:00.001-05:00

This is the season when we search the yard for snowdrops and crocuses, popping through the melt. Yesteryear’s farmers, however, looked not for these elegant garden imports, but for a reeking native to find signs-of-spring comfort.

Skunk Cabbage is by far our earliest wildflower, often appearing even before all the snow has disappeared. Well supplied with antifreeze, Skunk Cabbage also generates heat by a process called thermogenesis. Inside the cabbage hood, which protects a ball of flowers, the temperature can be as high as 70 degrees when the outside air is freezing.

That heat, plus plenty of pollen, makes the Skunk Cabbage very user-friendly to some of the season’s first insects, which may gain not only food, but warmth, on an early spring day. Many of those insects were attracted by the plant’s stink, which is reminiscent of rotting flesh – just what a hungry fly loves!

Skunk Cabbage is clever in other ways, including its flavoring. The plant is rich in blistering oxalates that “burn” the tongue and discourage browsers. It’s a defense that has prevented deer from decimating its wetland colonies.

Intercalation

2008-02-26T17:57:00.002-05:00

Yes, it’s a leap year and Friday is leap day, but why are we all leaping?

“Leap” means many things – mostly to do with jumping or bounding – but none seems to relate to Feb. 29, when we attach that quadrennial day to the calendar. In fact, adding Feb. 29 would seem to delay the leap from February – the worst month weatherwise in the year – to March, the most hopeful month, the one in which spring begins.

A century-old edition of the venerable Oxford English Dictionary fails to clarify the issue. In explaining “leap year,” it offers: “The name may refer to the fact that in the bissextile year, any fixed festival after February falls on the next week-day but one to that on which it fell in the preceding year, not on the next week-day as usual.” Back when feast days meant more to people than they do today, that sentence probably quickly made sense.

Perhaps we can be thankful that, for whatever reason, we call it leap day. Its other name is more of a mouthful: intercalary day.

Yet, intercalary day makes a lot more sense. It simply means to insert something – like a day – into a calendar.

And intercalating is exactly what we do Friday.

Good scents

2008-02-21T18:04:00.001-05:00

It’s the middle of the night. You are sound asleep until, suddenly, your nose drags you out of your dreams and into the world of reeking romance.

In February and March, skunks go a-courting. But admiration isn’t always mutual, so a female may decide to send off an overly aggressive male with a shot of her perfume; hence, the sudden burst of scent seeping into the house on a late winter night.

Despite their occasional odors, however, skunks are wonderful animals – gentle, shy, and rarely disposed to using their defenses. People have accidentally caught skunks in Havahart traps aimed at woodchucks, and were not sprayed or even threatened as they let the captives loose.

What’s more, skunks eat many rodents and pest insects – even digging up yellow jacket nests to get the larvae. Savvy farmers love skunks for just that reason. One farmer who had a skunk living in a barn for five years said, “My skunk never sprayed in or near the barn, although he did occasionally have residual stink from an argument elsewhere!”

So putting up with some bad scents can make good sense.

The humble Valentine

2008-02-16T19:19:00.001-05:00

While many of us may suspect that St. Valentine’s Day was invented by the modern greeting card, flower and candy industries, the holiday is ancient – and unsaintly.

More than 2,000 years ago, Romans celebrated Lupercalia, a fertility feast that included ceremonies in which men drew women by lots. When the early Christian church tried to “depaganize” Roman feasts, it turned this one into a festival of love in which people drew the names of saints instead of women. It was named for St. Valentine, probably because his feast day roughly coincided with the mid-February celebration of Lupercalia. The priest had been beaten and beheaded around Feb. 14, 270, for practicing Christianity.

By the 19^th Century the celebration of St. Valentine’s Day in England, at least, was not unlike today’s. One British author wrote in 1873: “The approach of the day is now heralded by the appearance in the printsellers’ shop windows of vast numbers of missives calculated for use on this occasion, each generally consisting of a single sheet of post paper, on the first page of which is seen some ridiculous coloured caricature of the male or female figure, with a few burlesque verses below.” These, the writer adds, are employed chiefly by “the humbler classes.”

So have a humble – but happy – Valentine’s Day!

Delightful warnings

2008-02-06T17:25:00.000-05:00

Red sky in morning, Sailors’ warning.
Red sky at night, Sailors’ delight.

The ancient adage may have developed from maritime experience, but it’s based on sound science – at least in this part of the world, where most weather systems move from west to east. Just last Friday, a blood-red dawn presaged a day of rain and, in my home town, messy ice.

A red sky in the morning occurs when clouds arrive from the west and the sky to the east is clear. As the sun rises, billions of dust particles in the otherwise clear atmosphere bend the solar light to the red spectrum, causing the edge of the cloud front to glow. More moisture in the air yields richer reds. Often the clouds signal bad weather, perhaps just rain or snow, but maybe the wind, too.

A red sky at night means the sun’s setting rays are passing through hundreds of miles of cloudless atmosphere, weather that’s heading our way and promising a sunny day tomorrow.

Whether delighted or forewarned, we should pause to enjoy either sky’s ephemeral light show, bursting with brilliance that countless artists have pursued and none has ever really captured.

Sharp shoes

2008-01-30T17:18:00.000-05:00

Remember studded snow tires? Chains? In the era of all-wheel drive and efficient highway maintenance, both of these once common winter transportation aids have all but disappeared.

Back before the automobile, however, winter travel needed its own version of studs or chains. At this time of year, the shoes of horses had to be kept very sharp so that hooves could bite into the ice. A horse with dull shoes could slip and injure a leg.

Later, horseshoes were equipped with devices called calkins or calks. A calk was a tapered wedge or cone-shaped piece of iron or steel projecting downward on the shoe of the horse to prevent slipping.

According to one old source, it was a Ridgefield, Conn., man who invented calks. He sought the aid of an attorney to get a patent. However, the attorney stole the idea from the poor inventor and took out the patent in his own name.

The Ridgefield man was so upset, the story goes, that he went out of his mind and wandered aimlessly around the village the rest of his days.

Maybe the man should have left well enough alone. For him, good advice might have been, “If the shoe slips, bear it.”

Winter harvest

2008-01-23T17:44:00.000-05:00

There’s an old saying that firewood keeps you warm twice: Once when you’re cutting it and once when you’re burning it. But that’s not why winter was the time for woodcutting among the old farmers who lived in town a century or three ago.

Winter was woodcutting time for more practical reasons. First and foremost, farmers had the time – there were no crops that needed tending in January and February.

In winter, it was easier to pull large loads of wood on a sledge or “stoneboat” because the winter woodlands were usually covered with snow or ice and the forest floor did not have much of the thick underbrush that made travel among the trees difficult at other times.

The wood was drier in winter, lacking the sap found in spring, summer and fall. Logs would season more quickly and be safe and ready for the following winter’s home fires.

Good farmers loved the outdoors and always needed something to do. Wood was their winter harvest.

Winter hoods

2008-01-21T17:55:00.000-05:00

Along the Atlantic Coast south of Cape Cod, the cold months are the best time to see Hooded Mergansers. They winter along our unfrozen coast, favoring brackish water, and spend the summers inland to the north and west, on wooded lakes, ponds and rivers.

They are famous for the big, white and black head crest that males display when trying to attract females. In his Essential Field Guide Companion, Pete Dunne says it “opens and closes like a Chinese fan.” The female also has a collapsible crest, which is reddish and not nearly as showy.

These birds are excellent at diving and can chase and catch fish with ease. They also eat just about anything else in the water, from crabs and insects to plants.

Hooded Mergansers used to be sort of rare, but their numbers have been improving. One reason for their resurgence is the large number of nesting boxes that have been set up, mostly to attract Wood Ducks. Hooded Mergansers, also cavity nesters, have been appropriating the Wood Duck boxes.

Of course, they will also use sizable holes in trees, and the reforestation of our once agricultural region may also be contributing to the population increases in the Northeast. Not surprisingly, the nesting trees must be near water.

In the spring, a few days after their eight or so offspring hatch, the babies must begin finding their own food. But first they have to get to water. If the nest hole is high in a tree, the parents will probably carry them one at a time down to the ground and nearby water. If the nest is low enough, the ducklings may be encouraged to jump – or tumble – down. The babies can swim, dive and feed themselves long before they are large enough to fly.

In a book called Our Amazing Birds, Robert S. Lemmon wrote in 1951 that “in all the bird world, there is no more charming sight than a pair of hoodeds, convoying their brood of eight or ten wee ducklings on the clear water of a forest lake, often with several of the little ones riding with evident enjoyment on their mother’s back.”

Tunnel time

2008-01-16T07:47:00.000-05:00

The snow, so cold and lifeless itself, tells tales of unseen life. On an early morning walk after a fresh layer has fallen, you may see scores of tracks of all sizes and shapes, the record of creatures roving the night in search of food.

If the snow is not too deep or if it is melting, you may also spot narrow tunnels that curve, loop and zigzag under the crust and near the ground. They are a sign that shrews have been foraging for overwintering insect eggs and grubs. Tiny and weighing a fraction of an ounce, shrews are the hummingbirds of the mammal world. They live a high-speed existence, with a heart that beats up to 1,200 times per minute - 20 beats per second! To keep that machine going, shrews must eat up to three times their weight each day.

No wonder they wander in all weather. But unlike commuting humans, shrews probably like traveling in the snow. It helps hide their movements and sounds from the sharp eyes and ears of nocturnal predators like owls and foxes who might love a juicy shrew for a midnight snack.

Feathered hope

2008-01-08T18:27:00.000-05:00

Backyard bird watching and feeding are said to be among most popular pastimes in America. Birds are, after all, entertaining. They offer variety, action, even comedy as they jockey for position on your feeder or wander your lawn and shrubs, in search of a bite to eat.

In winter, though, they also offer a bit of hope. When the winds are blowing, the snow is falling, the temperatures hover around zero, and even squirrels are hidden in their nests, the sight of chickadees, titmice, jays, and juncos flitting around outside your window bring a lot of action to an otherwise lifeless landscape.

But real excitement comes when, in the middle of winter, a robin shows up in a bush or a bluebird at the feeder. While these birds are symbols of warmer times, many spend all winter in the North, mostly off in wetlands where there’s a bounty of berries and seeds to eat. However, a good storm may bring them to your yard in search of food and perhaps shelter.

And in their blue backs and red breasts, we get glimpses of the spring to come, when the full array of life will return to our now barren landscape.

The stinky tree

2008-01-02T17:50:00.000-05:00

The Bradford pear is a “street tree” that’s blessed with benefits and cursed with shortcomings.

A cultivar of an Asian tree, the Bradford is actually a Callery Pear (Pyrus calleryana). Joseph Callery, a French missionary, “discovered” the species in China and sent it to Europe to be classified – and enjoyed. Today, it’s found along countless miles of American town and city streets. It laughs at pollutants like auto exhaust or road salt and needs barely a square foot or two of exposed earth as it rises from a cement sidewalk next to an asphalt highway.

In early spring, the Bradford produces thousands of showy, white flowers. Unfortunately, the blossoms reek – the smell has been likened to long-unwashed sweat socks. It’s a scent, nonetheless, that attracts scores of pollinating insects.

The tree has another disadvantage: It’s weak and it breaks. Sometimes, Bradfords split down the middle.

However, a rarely mentioned benefit of the Bradford pear is its tiny, marble-sized fruits. Birds love them, especially in the middle of winter when food is sparse. Even in January, it’s not unusual to see robins, cardinals, Blue Jays, even flocks of Cedar Waxwings, wandering its branches, snacking on the fruit, right in the middle of a town or city.

For that alone, we’ll deal with the spring stench and the risk of being beaned by a branch.

Going a gooding

2007-12-19T17:42:00.000-05:00

Dec. 21 is the feast of St. Thomas, the apostle and patron saint of builders and architects. In many parts of Old England, however, it was also the day of St. Thomas’s Dole.

Doleing Day or Mumping Day was when the poor of a community – particularly the old women – would visit the well-to-do in search of handouts. This form of pre-Christmas begging or “mumping” was called “going a gooding.”

Doleing Day was a time of good cheer, and many of the poor were invited into homes for not only gifts of money or grain, but also a sip or two of John Barleycorn. In return, they gave their hosts sprigs of evergreens to use as seasonal decorations.

In the spirit of gooding and giving, perhaps Doleing Day would be a good time for us to sit down with our checkbook and pen a few gifts to agencies near and far that could use our help. So many of our thoughts are with family and friends that we may overlook the needy in our midst and in the world.

This Friday, Dec. 21, do good and dole.

The wily weasel

2007-12-11T18:21:00.000-05:00

Weasels get a lot of bad press. Perhaps it’s their sly habits, or the way they seem to slither along the ground, but weasels have become symbols of sneakiness and subterfuge. You’re a “weasel” if you mislead people, shirk a duty, or squeal on someone.

Yet weasels are pretty smart, so smart in fact that some experts can’t catch them – even on film.

For months, the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection has been trying to capture Long- and Short-tailed Weasels for study, and hasn’t been able to trap a single one. Connecticut biologists also set up ink-padded tracking tubes, to record their footprints on paper, but have gotten only mouse prints. They’ve even set up cameras to nail them on film – nada.

Wildlife conservationists are going through all this trouble because a lot is unknown about these cousins of the skunk. Weasels are so secretive, experts aren’t even sure of their range in Connecticut, and must rely on roadkill and chance sightings to estimate their territories and numbers.

Perhaps the wildlife experts need to learn some weaselly wiliness.

If only they could catch one to learn from.

The nose knows

2007-12-05T18:12:00.000-05:00

The next time your cat rubs its head against your leg, it may be more communication than affection. Kitty is probably marking you with its scent.

Cats rub against people and places to deposit saliva and secretions from three glands on the head. These deposits send a message to other cats: You are part of their territory. It may be like posting a “no trespassing” sign.

In the wild, creatures from lowly mice to lumbering bears and fleet-footed deer mark the trees and ground with semiochemicals. “Semio” is from Greek, meaning a “sign,” and mammalian signs are read with considerable interest. They often define territories, but their particular mixture of 50 or more compounds may even identify an individual animal, as a name or Social Security number identifies us.

In the case of deer, the meaning of scents can be quite complex, advertising a buck’s status in the herd, triggering the reproductive cycle in females and perhaps even stemming the sexual drive in bucks of lower status.

Most mammals have much better olfaction than humans – dogs and their wild kin have up to a million times more scent receptors than we do.

So remember when you take Fido for a walk: Those leaves and twigs he spends so much time sniffing could be his version of reading the local newspaper.

Queen of the forests

2007-11-28T19:15:00.000-05:00

When our grandparents were children, the Queen of the Eastern Forests still reigned. The spreading chestnut, under which Longfellow's village smithy stood, rose more than 125 feet with a trunk 10 feet in diameter.

The American Chestnut was one of our most valued trees. Whole houses could be built from its fine, hard wood. Its fruit was a relished food – who hasn’t heard “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” and wondered what real chestnuts must have tasted like?

But around 1904, at a Japanese exhibit in New York, an Asiatic tree fungus escaped and during the next two decades wiped out the mighty chestnut from Maine to Mississippi.

Well, almost. The chestnut blight attacks only the above-ground parts of tree. Thousands of old chestnut roots still survive in the woods, sending up young trees that may rise 20 feet before being attacked and killed by the fungus. The trees are usually too young to produce nuts from which wholly new trees can grow. Thus, these ancient roots are hanging on for dear life, seemingly hoping for a miracle.

And a miracle may be at hand. Scientists are “backcross breeding” the American Chestnut with the Chinese Chestnut, which means they keep taking hybrids of the two and adding more American Chestnut genes by repeated crossbreeding to find the most blight-resistant strains. They hope to get a nearly pure American Chestnut that can withstand the blight and repopulate the eastern forests.

While there's little hope for the village smithy, “backcrossing” may one day return the spreading chestnut to its noble size and full numbers.

Vulching

2007-11-26T17:44:00.000-05:00

We have a little Thanksgiving tradition that might leave many people aghast: We feed vultures.

The day after Thanksgiving about a dozen years ago, we decided that instead of throwing the picked-over turkey carcass into the garbage, we’d recycle it by placing it in the back yard for crows, raccoons, skunks, and even foxes to snack on. It turned out that nature’s waste disposal team showed up first.

For many winters, Turkey Vultures had been roosting a quarter mile from our house. Our back yard is their back yard, so to speak. So when we offered that “dead meat,” the sensitive Turkey Vulture noses soon picked up the scent. Vultures landed in nearby trees to eye the potential meal. Once they determined the scene was safe, they dropped to the ground and chowed down.

Each year since, we’ve placed our turkey carcass in the back yard and every time, vultures have showed up to feast. One year, more than 50 were on the ground or in the trees at one time.

About five years ago, Black Vultures appeared.

Black Vultures are common in the southern United States, but until recently, were rare in the Northeast. They have been extending their territory northward, probably as the winters get milder.

The Black Vulture is smaller in appearance, with a wingspan of just under five feet, while the Turkey Vulture has a five and a half foot wingspan. Despite this, the Black Vulture is actually heavier – weighing up to 4.4 pounds while the Turkey Vulture weighs four pounds. Those differences can be seen in flight patterns. The bulkier and shorter-winged Black Vulture needs to flap its wings frequently to stay aloft while the Turkey Vulture can spend long periods, simply gliding.

The heads are also different. The Turkey Vulture has a red, fleshy head while the Black Vulture’s head is gray. That is not always easy to see, especially at a distance.

Turkey Vultures use a keen sense of smell – very unusual in a bird – to detect carrion from long distances. Black Vultures must rely on eyesight. That’s why, quite often, Black Vultures will arrive after Turkey Vultures – or crows – have already discovered food. Being the more aggressive, Black Vultures quickly chase off the Turkey Vultures, or crows, and take over the meal.

This year, Turkey Vultures were first to spot our gift, but were so timid, most would not land. Soon, Black Vultures saw their cousins sitting in the trees, watching the carcass – what we call “vulching.” Much less afraid, the blacks zoomed down and began eating.

Despite competing for food, Turkey and Black Vultures often roost together, usually in tall evergreens. The birds at the top of the pecking order perch on the highest branches, while lesser birds are in branches below. Some authorities believe the top-most benefit from the heat rising from the bodies of the ones below. Those below often suffer the indignity of being pooped upon by the birds above. That’s why you will see vultures – and sometimes crows – with white spots all over their backs (as in the accompanying photo of Black Vultures in our back yard).

Incidentally, until recently, vultures – including their close relative, the California Condor – were grouped with the raptors, such as eagles, hawks and kites. Recent DNA studies revealed that vultures are more closely allied with storks, flamingos, spoonbills, and ibises.

The winds of autumn

2007-11-19T07:49:00.000-05:00

March may come in like a lion, but there's at least a tiger roaring late each autumn.

The winds that wash away winter and bring us spring have their fall counterparts. They have equal force, but get less good press. The lack of song and poetry about this season of the year probably stems from our displeasure with the icy blasts that fold up the last hardy flowers, kill most things green and send birds scurrying southward. Only skiers could like this season, and then only because they know what's coming soon.

An optimist might say autumn’s winds are part of nature's way of cleaning house, of sweeping away the old and preparing for the new, the groundwork for a distant new season of growth.

But if that sounds like a lot of hooey, look at it another way: This cold, blowy, barren season is great for making us appreciate the spring and summer all the more.

Gliding through the night

2007-11-13T18:10:00.000-05:00

The night holds many mysteries, not the least of which are its creatures. Most people live a lifetime without ever seeing a common neighbor, the flying squirrel, yet they are all about us.

Both the Northern and Southern Flying Squirrels are mini versions of their daytime cousins – about half the size of a Gray Squirrel. Big-eyed because they are nocturnal, they make use of a flap of furry skin to glide – not fly – a hundred feet or more. They eat the usual squirrel foods, like nuts, seeds, insects and eggs, though the Northern is said to have a fondness for truffles and other tasty fungi.

Flying squirrels were once much better known and appreciated, not as aeronautical wizards but as companions. As far back as colonial times, people caught them as babies and raised them as pets. One of John Singleton Copley’s most famous paintings, “Boy with A Squirrel,” shows Copley’s half brother seated at a desk with a pet flying squirrel alongside him.

All is not perfect in this man-rodent relationship, however, and flying squirrels will sometimes infest attics. A dozen or more might decide to spend the winter huddled together in the comfort of your home.

Troubled waters

2007-11-06T18:08:00.000-05:00

Not all invasive plants are found in woods and wetlands. Aliens also harm lakes, ponds and streams. Witness water thyme, which a UConn professor called “one of the world's worst weeds” and the director of the Invasive Plant Atlas of New England described as “a thug.”

Imported from Africa as an aquarium plant, Hydrilla verticillata clogs lakes and streams, pushes out native species of plants, fish and birds, and can even halt boat traffic. Across the nation hundreds of millions of dollars have been spent battling water thyme, using everything from herbicides to a Hydrilla leaf-mining fly from Pakistan.

While one group of scientists looks at how to kill Hydrilla, another eyes it from a different angle. Researchers have found water thyme is rich source of proteins, calcium, potassium, lipids, carotenoids, RNA, DNA, magnesium, iron, vitamins B1, B2, B3, B5, B12, phosphorus, manganese, zinc, copper, cobalt, 17 amino acids, and essential enzymes. Some claim it's an effective muscle builder and energy enhancer. University studies indicate it may be an appetite suppressant.

And that's just for humans. The University of Florida has found that water thyme increases the yield of milk in dairy cattle and the egg-laying capacity of hens.

So maybe there's another answer to controlling this latest invasive thug: Let’s all eat it.

Don't be sweet

2007-10-23T07:13:00.000-04:00

The bees are really bad this year,” someone said the other day.

He was wrong on two counts. Bees are rarely bad. Nearly all of the 3,300 species of bees in North America provide a service without which we would be very uncomfortable. They pollinate flowers, which produce most of the fruits and many of the vegetables we eat.

Of course, he was not speaking of bees, but of wasps, the yellowjackets, which are so common at this time of year. Because it's yellow and looks something like a bee, it is a “bee” to many people. It's a bad rap for the bees.

Yellowjackets become so pesky in late summer and autumn because workers are seeking sweets for the new crop of queens, the only ones who will overwinter. Unlike most bees that limit their foraging to flowers, yellowjackets are drawn to anything sweet: the perfume you're wearing, the soap you used, the food you're eating.

If you are annoyed by yellowjackets and especially if you're sensitive to their sting, shun perfumes, hairsprays or scented laundry products; use unscented soaps; don't drink sodas or eat fruit outdoors; and stay away from fallen apples and other sugary fruits. In other words, don't be sweet.

The oothecas of autumn

2007-10-19T18:51:00.000-04:00

In the autumn, if you snoop around a goldenrod grove, you’re apt to come across the ootheca of the Praying Mantis. You might want to bring it home and put it in the freezer.

Mantises love goldenrod. When it’s blooming, they perch near the flowers and prey upon the wealth of visiting insects, enjoying their last meals before the cold kills them. “Mantis” means “prophet,” and as they sit motionless with forelegs folded, they seem to be in a religious trance.

Before departing this world, the female will often use the goldenrod’s stiff stalks to attach one or more oothecas, the cases that hold the eggs until they hatch the next spring and provide a new season of mantises.

Why bring egg cases home? Praying Mantises are among our most beneficial insects, consuming many pest species. Serious gardeners buy egg cases, containing up to 300 eggs each, to hatch in their gardens and greenhouses. The mantis is so much admired that Connecticut has declared it the “state insect.”

So for some natural pest control next season as well as some insectival entertainment, put some oothecas in the freezer. Take them out next spring, put them in the garden to hatch, and watch the prophets pray for prey.

Thorny thoughts

2007-10-02T17:48:00.000-04:00

Thorns have gotten a bad rap. Jesus Christ was tortured with them, issues with them are troubled, and they're generally synonymous with problems and pain.

But thorns, in fact, often help package wonderful things.

Thorns are a kind of spine that plants use to protect themselves from the mouths of grazing mammals. Both thistles and nettles, among prickliest of plants, are tasty and nutritious foods. Be they wild or cultivated, roses are among our most beautiful-looking and beautifully scented flowers, as well as among the best defended.

Creatures of all sizes must be wary of the raspberry, whose arms are so prickly even birds fear to tread – all the better for us humans who, with long arms and careful hands, can pluck the sweet berries for late summer treats.

Finally, consider Androcles: Without that thorn to pull from the lion’s foot, he would have been cat food.

So think of thorns not as threats, but as invitations to something special beyond.

Nut birds

2007-09-26T18:01:00.000-04:00

The season of nuts is upon us, and squirrels are once again being admired for being so industrious. Don't they gather up and bury all those acorns and other nuts? Aren't they responsible for planting forests full of oaks, hickories and beeches?

Not necessarily. Biologist M.R. Chettleburgh has found that during the single month of October, 30 to 40 jays can gather and plant more than 20,000 acorns alone. The jays are caching them for future use, but often forget their whereabouts, allowing the nuts to sprout.

On average, jays carry these acorns a quarter mile from the tree that bore them, but often they fly them a half to three-quarters of a mile away. No lazy, old squirrel is going to haul an acorn a half-mile.

Clearly, jays are the real planters and spreaders of our woodlands. In Siberia, in fact, they are protected by the state because of their forest-expanding abilities.

And maybe that's why Blue Jays are so noisy at this time of year, screeching and squawking seemingly from dawn to dusk: They're whining about all the credit the squirrels get for being hard-working.

Beeches and bears

2007-09-19T17:47:00.000-04:00

For most of us, “beech nut” means a baby food. However, if you’re old enough, you probably remember Beech-Nut Chewing Gum. And if you’re really old enough, Beech-Nut Coffee, Beech-Nut Macaroni, and – with a name in which the words seem to clash, Beech-Nut Peanut Butter.

For a bear, however, a real beech nut is like candy.

At this time of year, Black Bears will climb 60 or more feet to the top of an American Beech to search for its offering of food. The bear will break off nut-laden branches from the tree’s crown and stuff in them in the crotches of limbs while it picks off and eats the nuts. Old New Englanders called the resulting tangles of nutless, broken branches “bear nests.”

Why go through all this trouble when berries and other foods abound down below? The beech nut is said to be the calorically richest nut in North America, containing at least 50% fat and 20% protein. For a bear about to hunker down for a long winter’s nap, that’s an ideal food – well worth the climb and the work that includes breaking off branches up to two and a half inches in diameter.

The season for sneezin'

2007-09-05T18:18:00.000-04:00

As millions of tons of sneeze-provoking pollen is spewed the air this season, innocent bystanders invariably get the blame.

Goldenrod is often cited as the cause of hay fever simply because it's so brilliant at a time when its humble but potent cousin, ragweed, is also blooming. As a result, misguided allergy sufferers destroy countless goldenrods, one of the great seasonal sources of color and scent as well as nectar for bees.

Airborne pollen causes hay fever. Most flowers with airborne pollen – ragweed, plantain, grasses, many trees – are green and unnoticed, hidden among their own leaves. They're green because they don't need to be “different” to catch the eye of passing bees and other flying pollinators – they use air, not insects, to effect pollination. Goldenrod has bee-borne pollen, too heavy to float in the air and up the nose. Its yellow helps attract bees to haul its pollen around.

Thus, despite all the colorful TV and magazine ads for allergy medications, few if any brightly colored flowers will ever tickle your nose or tighten your chest. Wheezers and sneezers should join everyone else and enjoy Mother Nature's late summer explosion of yellow.

Somniloquent singers?

2007-08-31T17:47:00.001-04:00

Long after its season of nighttime wooing has passed, the Eastern Gray Treefrog occasionally erupts in daytime song, but no one seems to know just why.

These arboreal acrobats that can climb glass windows as well as trees can also deftly snag an insect in mid-air as it passes by a branch. They feed mostly at night and sleep by day.

However, in late August, their brief, bird-like trills can occasionally be heard at almost any time of the day, especially if there’s been a shower. You might hear a call from one tree, then a response from another, and depending on how froggy your neighborhood is, two or three other treefrogs nearby may join in the exchange.

In the spring, their calls are part of the expected nighttime chorus of courting critters, but by this time of year, all that love-making is long past. So why sing when they’re supposed to be asleep? Perhaps they suffer from somniloquy and are just sleep-talking as they dream of happy, youthful encounters those long months ago.

Acorn Rain

2007-08-21T18:12:00.001-04:00

On an early morning walk in late August, you are bound to hear the click-clacking of the oak trees. High in their branches gray squirrels are picking and dropping acorns that fall through the leaves and twigs like so many giant raindrops.

Squirrels learned long ago that, rather than pick and carry each acorn or hickory nut to the ground to bury, it’s a lot easier to drop a bunch at a time, then climb down to collect and cache them.

But they have to be quick about it sometimes.

One day a few years ago, we came across one of the drawbacks of the squirrels’ efficient operation. Under a bountiful oak raining with acorns from a half dozen squirrels stood a herd of a five deer, eating these gifts from above as quickly as they landed.

Even in nature, no system is perfect – unless you’re a deer that likes good service.

Up on the Roof

2007-08-16T07:55:00.001-04:00

Some wildlife has taken kindly to suburbia, delighting in man’s manipulation of the landscape. Deer and the Canada Geese like our environment so well, they’ve overpopulated into pests.

Others are more subtle at adapting. The Killdeer, a common plover that looks as if it belongs on a beach where most of its cousins live, is doing well, population surveys report. This might seem odd since Killdeer nest on the open ground, and in the suburbs, about the only open grounds are lawns and parking lots.

Killdeer will in fact nest on grassy islands in the middle of shopping center lots. If a shopper gets too close, mom or pop will stage the famous broken-wing act, fluttering along the ground to draw attention away from a well-camouflaged nest.

Many Killdeer have discovered much safer nesting grounds. The flat roofs of the shopping centers and office buildings that fill our business districts provide fine Killdeer homesites. The parents don’t have to worry about four-legged predators – or two-legged interlopers – and can concentrate on watching for the usual enemies from above, such as crows and hawks.

For the Killdeer, up on the roof can be down home.

Really good raspberries

2007-08-07T18:16:00.001-04:00

It’s been another bumper year for berries, but few have been as bountiful as the raspberry. Big bunches of them have been bending canes with their weight this season, and that’s a boon to both man and beast.

The raspberry is among the most valuable food sources for scores of species of birds and small mammals. Fortunately, the thorny canes have prevented a big mammal, deer, from decimating the plants, which favor the same wood edges that deer do.

Roadside berries are free for the picking, and considering the prices that even rural farm stands are charging – $3.50 a half pint at one in northern Vermont on Sunday, it’s a sweet treat that’s well worth the effort as well as a few scratches.

What’s more, they are good for us – really good. Raspberries are rich in antioxidants that promote healthy hearts. They have lots of vitamins A, B1, 2 and 3, and C, plus calcium, iron, and potassium. And because each berry is a cluster of tiny berries or “drupelets,” the raspberry has lots of skin, which is full of fiber – up to one-fifth of the berry’s weight – making it among the most fiber-filled fruits in North America.

Dog Day Update

2007-07-31T17:25:00.000-04:00

The Dog Days are well underway and the news so far is pretty good.

A hand-me-down from ancient times, the Dog Days extend from July 3 through Aug. 11. The Greeks and Romans knew that Sirius, the Dog Star, rose simultaneously with the sun during this period. They believed that since it was such a strong star, Sirius added to the sun’s heat, making the Dog Days the hottest time of the year.

English countrymen said that if it rained on the first Dog Day, the rain would continue for 40 days. Those who’ve inspected their lawns lately know well that, after a wet spring, the sun has been doing a lot of shining these dog days – except maybe for last Monday.

But that’s good, say the English, who also believed:

Dog days bright and clear

indicate a happy year.

But when accompanied by rain,

for better times our hope’s in vain.

Alien threats

2007-07-17T17:56:00.000-04:00

Illegal immigrants are much in the news lately, but immigrants of a different sort are sneaking across our borders and causing havoc.

The Emerald Ash Borer, a beetle from Asia discovered here in 2002, has killed countless ash trees – more than 20 million in Michigan, Ohio and Indiana alone. It has cost towns, property owners, nurseries, and forest products industries – even baseball bat makers – tens of millions of dollars. It’s just one of a passel of insect and plant pests that have entered our country hidden in packaging or produce. Some problem plants, such as Purple Loosestrife, Japanese Knotweed and Yellow Flag Iris, were imported deliberately because of their beauty, only to become bulls in an environmental china shop.

Without natural controls, some alien plants spread wildly, pushing out native plants and in the process destroying ecologies that support many native birds, fishes, reptiles, amphibians, and insects.

What can we do? Know and destroy invasive plants. And insist that legislators support not only better surveillance of our ports of entry, but also research into combating imported pests that have already arrived.

Our leaders must understand that not all alien threats to our nation come from terrorists.

Does your furniture click?

2007-07-10T18:17:00.000-04:00

Behold the beetle, perhaps the most successful of all life forms. One in every five species on Earth – including plants – is a kind of beetle. More than 24,000 different beetles live in North America alone.

Many are well-known. In July, for instance, we find lady bugs, fireflies, and – despite their name – June bugs. Most share a common trait: Their first pair of wings has hardened into plates that provide protection. When the beetle needs to fly, these plates, called elytra, are raised to unveil the flight wings.

Most beetles are harmless. Some are pests, however, and a few annoy in odd ways.

Take the Death-watch Beetle, which bores its way into wood, including furniture. To communicate, males and females rap their heads against the tunnel walls, producing a clicking sound. To folks generations ago, clicking furniture meant a death in the family was imminent.

Then there is the Drugstore Beetle. “Virtually nothing organic is off-limits to this insect, including leather, flour, dried beans, and cayenne pepper,” write Eric Eaton and Kenn Kaufman in the Kaufman Field Guild to Insects of North America. “It will even bore through plastic vials to get to a meal.”

Or how about the Cigarette Beetle, which loves dried vegetable matter, but is especially fond of tobacco. It favors chewing, though. “So far, it has not been observed smoking,” report Eaton and Kaufman.

July’s power

2007-07-08T17:35:00.000-04:00

July is the month when the sun is strongest. In our neighborhood, high temperatures average 84, five degrees warmer than in June and three higher than in August.

Because the sun shows so much power in July, Mark Anthony had the month Quintilis changed to honor his late friend, Julius Caesar, a man of great power. The change also eliminated the nasty problem of the seventh month being named five, its old position in the Roman year.

The ancient Saxons were more down to earth about naming their months. July was Hay Monath, when they mowed and harvested hay, or sometimes Maed Monath, supposedly because the meads – the meadows – were in bloom then. However, mead is also an ancient alcoholic beverage made from fermented honey.

And since it’s said that mead imbues the drinker with wisdom, courage and strength, perhaps Maed Monath is the time to sit back, sip some mead, and quietly seek these admirable qualities.

A bird’s blessing

2007-06-26T17:48:00.001-04:00

The American Goldfinch is a patient bird, at least when it comes to building a home and raising a family.

Each season, goldfinches are among the last of our birds to establish nests. Most others already have fledglings – you can hear them now, squeaking and whining at their parents to feed them. But goldfinches are just getting their nest work underway.

Why? The goldfinch seems to time its domestic duties to the season of the thistles, those prickly wildflowers most people hate. Early thistles are just now going to seed, producing the super-soft down that is so opposite the thorns that bedeck the plants. Goldfinches love thistle down as a material for lining their nests.

After the eggs have hatched, thistles provide their second benefit: Food. Goldfinches are mostly seed-eaters and they delay raising a family – with a bunch of hungry mouths to feed – until mid-summer when the season of seeds is well underway. Probably their favorite seed is the thistle.

“Cursed is the ground because of you,” God told Adam in the Garden of Eden. “Thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you.” Clearly, a man’s curse can be a bird’s blessing.

Sound of the Veery

2007-06-25T07:33:00.000-04:00

I heard a Veery on Sunday. That may not sound like a big deal, but it’s the first one I’ve heard locally in more than five years.

And hearing them is often all you do, for these brown thrushes are somewhat secretive and stick to woodlands where they can be hard to spot.

However, their song is one of the most distinctive and easy to recognize of any of our migrants. It’s a flutelike cascade of notes, seeming to echo as if they were sung through a long open pipe. Once you’ve heard the song, you never forget it.

Time was when the song of the Veery was a sure sign that spring had settled in. It was something to listen for. But Veeries are in what the Cornell Lab of Ornithology calls a “slow decline” throughout their range.

In winter, that range includes a large area of central and northern South America, much of it rain forest, which, as we all know by now, is being cut down. Ornithologists suspect that this “rapid habitat conversion” is reducing the Veery population.

Up north, these birds may also be suffering from the deer overpopulation. Veeries nest on or near the ground and thus prefer woods with dense understory that provides a degree of camouflage and protection. Overpopulating deer have stripped so much of the understory of our woods that Veeries may be having difficulty finding suitable nesting sites. (However, the latest statistics from the state of Connecticut indicate the state’s deer population may be in decline from a peak of 75,000 a few years ago to a current estimate of 62,000.)

Veeries have also suffered from nest parasitism by Brown-headed Cowbirds, but the latest studies on cowbirds are finding that these birds may also in decline. So it’s likely that the habitat destruction, in both winter and summer ranges, have been affecting the Veery numbers in our neighborhood.

Are deer down?

2007-06-20T19:13:00.000-04:00

Connecticut’ deer population has been stabilizing, maybe even declining. So says the Wildlife Division of the Connecticut Department of Environmental, which in February completed its latest aerial population survey.

Officials put many qualifiers on their numbers, including the fact that the aerial survey looks at only one percent of the state’s total deer habitat. Nonetheless, from 1993 to 2003, the estimated winter deer population rose from 49,472 to 75,771. Last winter, the estimate was 62,163. If the state’s system of surveying is reasonably accurate, that would be a noteworthy decline.

We are still in the most deer dense part of the state. Fairfield County has an estimated 29.4 deer per square mile, the highest density of any of the 12 state zones. The statewide average is 17.

Wildlife officials also watch data on hunter kills, deer-vehicle collisions, and even “homeowner concerns,” and all also seem to indicate the population is at least stabilizing.

Why? The state has “adjusted deer seasons, modified bag limits, and encouraged the harvest of antlerless deer in high deer density areas,” DEP said. “Wise deer management results in healthy deer populations and productive wildlife habitat.”

In a word, the state seems to be saying, hunting.

The Big Stink

2007-06-06T17:46:00.000-04:00

There’s been a big stink at the University of Connecticut lately. No, it’s not some scandal or controversy, but the blooming of a Titan Arum – two, in fact – at a university greenhouse. Only twice since the 1930s has this species flowered in the Northeast, and UConn has two in one season.

Natives of Sumatra, Titan Arums bear huge blooms that literally reek. Both in their foul odor and reddish color, the flowers mimic carrion, all in an effort to draw flesh-eating flies to pollinate them.

However, you don’t have to go to UConn or Sumatra to see the same technique in action in our own woods. Early each spring, our wetlands are bursting with Skunk Cabbage flowers, another Arum that uses exactly the same technique – carrion color and scent – to attract flies.

Still another spring stinker is Purple Trillium, a fly-baiter that may qualify as the worst-smelling wildflower in North America. But its odor is not a defense and unlike an Arum, the trillium is not bitter-tasting. Unfortunately, hungry deer won’t turn their noses up at a bad smell, and have been eating our trilliums into oblivion.

Nest success

2007-05-28T09:00:00.000-04:00

This is the time of year when birds are building and using nests. But as parents, birds are often unsuccessful, both at building nests and at protecting their occupants.

Bad weather and faulty construction can lead to nest failure. But most bird nests are also subject to predators. Various studies of nest predation have found that between a third and a half of nests are attacked by other birds, small mammals, and reptiles such as snakes.

Percentages of predation can vary widely. A study of Hermit Thrushes in Arizona found that predators attacked 83% of the nests. A study in the same state of Black-headed Grosbeaks found predators attacked only 23% of the nests.

Dr. Steven W. Kress reported a study that found that of 100 Song Sparrow eggs, 74 hatched successfully and 52 eventually fledged. That’s a loss of nearly 50%.

Years ago, Dr. Arthur Allen of Cornell University estimated that less than 20% of all nests succeed in producing a complete set of new, mature birds. But as Allan and Helen Cruickshank point out, that’s nature’s checks and balances. “Should all of the birds’ eggs laid in North America in a single season not only hatch but the young mature,” they said, “the continent itself would be so crowded with birds that man himself would suffer acutely.”

Frozen out

2007-05-22T06:58:00.000-04:00

Tulip Trees bloom in May – you can see their petals being discarded to the ground below by squirrels eating parts of the sweet, green-orange flowers. These members of the magnolia family are our tallest trees, averaging 120 feet, often reaching 150 feet, and known as tall as 190 feet.

Tulip Trees were once circumboreal – found in North America, Europe and Asia. They now live only in China and eastern North America. The European Tulip Trees were wiped out, not by man but nature, in the last ice age. On our continent, as the ice moved south, the Tulip Tree seeded its way southward ahead of the shelf. In Europe, however, the Mediterranean to the south and mountains to the east trapped the species and none survived.

Because our trees could “escape” down the north-south coastal plains, ridges and valleys, our part of the world is home to many more species than Europe has.

Alien invasion

2007-05-10T17:45:00.000-04:00

A new invasion of alien plants is looming, but the invaders are not from the east or west, but the south.

For centuries, aliens have been arriving from Europe and Asia, imported as garden flowers, herbal flavorings or medicines, or just hitching a ride with crop seeds. They came from climates similar to ours and, finding no enemies, the likes of Garlic Mustard, Purple Loosestrife, Japanese Knotweed, and Japanese Barberry thrived to become pests.

Enter global warming. As the New England winters weaken, both plants and animals that could not survive here are moving northward. While white birches and other species are dying off because of the warmth, palms are already surviving in southern New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and kudzu, which has been called “the plant that ate the South,” has crossed the Mason-Dixon and is already in Connecticut.

How to deal with so complex a problem befuddles even the experts, but it can’t hurt for us to leave a smaller footprint on our Earth, while at the same time, stomping invasives when we spot them.

Killer cats

2007-05-02T17:53:00.000-04:00

Few scenes are as peaceful and domestic as the family cat, curled up and purring in your lap, on a cool spring evening. But for uncountable millions of creatures, house cats are not so warm and fuzzy, and feline fangs are the last thing they see before they die.

Conservation officials say that of the 90 million pet cats in the U.S., only 35% are kept indoors. The rest are let loose to hunt, killing “hundreds of millions of birds, and more than a billion small mammals, such as rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks each year,” says the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection.

Habitat destruction is the leading cause of declining bird populations, but right up in second place are cats, both domestic and feral.

The killer is becoming the killed, however, as house cats are now prey themselves. Increasing numbers of coyotes and now fishers – a large carnivorous marten that has been reintroduced into our woods – are catching and eating many house cats.

The answer to both deadly problems is simple: Keep kitty indoors.

Vernal Pools

2007-04-24T17:44:00.000-04:00

In nature, little is wasted, not even puddles. At this time of year, nature’s puddles – officially known as “vernal pools” – are teeming with life.

Vernal pools form in the winter, last through the spring and dry up in summer. Found throughout our woodlands in sizes large and small, they are hotbeds of early spring activity. Frogs and salamanders crawl out of the forest’s leaf litter and make their way to the water to frolic and mate. Soon the pool is full of eggs, then tadpoles and salamander larvae.

To amphibians, the pool’s benefit is big: There are no fish to eat them or their offspring. The risk, however, is drought. The water must last long enough for the tads to reach adulthood. Clearly, the benefit outweighs the risk, for our woods still ring out each April with choruses of the popular vernal pool patron, Spring Peepers.

A bigger threat, however, is man. Too few know what vernal pools are, much less their importance, and no laws protect them. Many are threatened by development.

Dr. Seuss’s Lorax spoke for the trees. Fortunately, we have a few wise conservationists and savvy zoning commissioners who speak for the pools.

Windy names

2007-04-17T07:53:00.000-04:00

April showers may bring May flowers, but March’s winds bring April’s windflowers. At least, that’s what old-timers believed, not only calling our early spring anemones “windflowers” but scientifically naming them after anemos, the Greek word for wind. In fact, in Greek mythology, Anemone was a breezy nymph who hung out with Zephyr, god of the west wind.

Wood Anemone and Rue-Anemone, two white buttercups of our April woods, could thank the wind for more than their names. Lacking much color or scent in a chilly season when few insects are about, they rely on the wind to disperse their pollen.

However, the naming gurus seem to have gone awry when labeling our common Rue-Anemone. The plant was long called Anemonella thalictroides, which literally means “a little anemone that looks like a thalictrum” – thalictrum being meadow rue, a summertime wildflower. But two decades ago, scientists reclassified the plant, deciding it really is a meadow rue and calling it Thalictrum thalictroides: “A meadow rue that looks like a meadow rue.”

Swamp carcasses

2007-04-10T08:01:00.000-04:00

The spring air is full of rich earthy scents, especially over our swamps. Often leading the wetland aromas is the skunk cabbage.

Many know but few admire this big, fetid fellow. Yet, it is one of our most fascinating wildflowers, finely tuned by evolution to deal with a harsh time of year. As it rises in late winter and early spring, the plant burns carbs – just like exercising humans – heating up and melting the frozen earth around it. Once up and blooming, the flower head – protected by a reddish-brown hood – can be as warm as 70 degrees when the air outside is 30.

The hood’s hue serves a second purpose: It’s the color of carrion. Flies are the first insects of the new season. Searching for the thawing carcasses of winter-killed creatures, they are drawn to the color and the smell, thinking the cabbage is a corpse. The plant’s warmth is a plus, encouraging the flies to roam about the ball of flowers, unwittingly picking up pollen to carry to the next mouth-watering skunk cabbage down the line.

The tricks may stink, but they work.

Cowslip season

2007-04-03T18:11:00.000-04:00

April offered old-time farmers a free treat that could warm their stomachs, brighten their rooms, and even line their pockets. We call them marsh marigolds, but New Englanders knew them as cowslips.

Their yellow flowers filled wetlands, offering the first big blooms of the season and a chance to decorate winter-weary homes.

They were also popular as a spinach-like dish. William Hamilton Gibson wrote in 1880: “The eager farmer’s wife fills her basket with the succulent leaves she has been waiting for so long; for they’ll tell you in New England that ‘they ain’t noth’n’ like cowslips for a mess o’ greens.’” Being bitter like most buttercups, they had to be well-boiled first. That bitterness, incidentally, is protection from today’s voracious deer.

There was gold in those yellow flowers, too. Enterprising farmers picked bunches of cowslips to send to nearby cities where boys would sell them on street corners to people eager for spring blossoms.

The plant’s name sounds romantically agrarian, but isn’t quite. Cowslip, named for a European barnyard weed, is from the Old English, meaning “cow slop” – that is to say, cow crap.

Woodcock woes

2007-04-02T07:52:00.000-04:00

Each March, nature centers and Audubon groups sponsor “woodcock walks,” as much a part of the tradition of spring as spotting robins in the yard or Red-wing Blackbirds in the swamps.

The American Woodcock is famous for its mating maneuvers. In his Essential Field Guide Companion, Peter Dunne describes it concisely: “Aerial courtship display is arresting and easily observed at dawn and dusk. Birds spiral aloft, calling as they climb, then descend rapidly to earth like broken kites. After an interval, the display is repeated.”

What also makes woodcocks fascinating is that they are actually shorebirds – members of the Sandpiper family – that eons ago moved inland and inhabit forests and fields instead of beaches. Their main food is earthworms.

It is a pudgy bird whose neckless head appears to be what Dunne calls “a bump on the body.” He says that the overall effect of the bird is like viewing a “meatloaf on a stick.”

They have endeared themselves to countless generations of farmers and nature-lovers, who often call them “timberdoodles.”

The American Woodcock has been somewhat in decline in Connecticut, probably because of habitat loss. But in March, the same snowstorm that brought the migrating Fox Sparrows to the ground also killed countless woodcocks.

Reports started coming in soon after the St. Patrick’s Day storm. For instance, George Rieger of Home Place in Greenwich told us, “The morning after the recent ice/snow storm we found a woodcock outside of our front door near Bruce Park in Greenwich. The bird appeared healthy but was weak and unable to fly.

“We put it in a box with torn up newspaper and some water. We tried to keep the bird warm but not too warm. After 24 hours the bird was strong enough to escape the box and flutter about.”

He took them to a nearby sanctuary.

“Three birders were at the sanctuary. They suggested that we let the bird try to make it. I was skeptical. Two of the men took the bird to a tree and released it. I said to my wife and the third man that the woodcock was bait for predators.

“No sooner had I spoken than I saw a black shape flying toward the woodcock. I yelled ‘crow.’ The youngest of the two men sprinted toward the woodcock and arrived just in time to dislodge it from the crow's beak.

“We left the beautiful woodcock with the birders whom I am certain did the best that they could for the bird.”

They may have taken it to Meredith Sampson, director of Wild Winds Inc., a wildlife rehabilitator in Old Greenwich. She has gotten many woodcocks this season.

Meredith reported on the Connecticut Birds discussion group a couple weeks ago, “Received the eighth woodcock for rehab. Sad to report the bird expired about a half hour later. It was extremely emaciated at 101 grams and apparently crashed into something which resulted in a misaligned beak and severe eye injury. Found in downtown Stamford.

“Out of the eight woodcocks in rehab, two have survived and were released three evenings ago. All came in severely emaciated, weights averaging around 90-100 grams.

“It's rare that I get in this species – I don't even get one a year! It’s heartbreaking to see this happening.”

What was happening? Milan Bull of Connecticut Audubon offered an answer on Connecticut Birds.

“Woodcock are apparently dying in considerable numbers across the Northeast this spring due to a crusted snowpack isolating these early migrants from the soil and earthworms below. We have had calls throughout Connecticut from members and wildlife rehabilitators reporting dead and emaciated woodcock in numbers I haven't seen in similar past events, and those are only the ones that are discovered!

“This is not a good sign, considering woodcock are on a long-term decline as it is.”

Fortunately, soon after, warm weather arrived and melted the hard-topped snow, giving the surviving woodcocks access to their worms.

Supply and demand

2007-03-29T07:52:00.000-04:00

Day and night, the sky is alive with life. Migration has begun, and literally millions birds are silently streaming northward in search of nesting grounds.

Only a fraction of these travelers are seen locally, however. They pass by high overhead, often in the middle of the night. Most don’t stop and those that do may pay only brief visits or spend the time sleeping. Sometimes, though, they make forced landings. Countless Fox Sparrows were grounded by the recent nor’easter, showing up in flocks at feeders where they had never been seen before, and generating a flurry of excitement in the bird-watching world – even inspiring some newspaper stories.

All these northbound birds are heading for territory that is barren in winter, but lush with food, both insects and vegetation, in spring and summer. What’s more, the northlands offer virtually unlimited nesting sites – unlike the crowded winter grounds of the South or the tropics.

Thus, migration is nature’s efficient way of handling life’s supply and demand.

Spring ephemerals

2007-03-22T21:29:00.000-04:00

Ah, spring, the season of new and renewed life! It’s a time when many nature lovers turn their eyes skyward to spot migrating birds as signs of the season. Others, however, head for the woods and look to the ground. They seek the “spring ephemerals,” March and April wildflowers that pop up, bloom, fruit, and disappear before most of the trees have unfurled their leaves.

Ephemerals like bloodroot, trout-lily, trillium, anemone, and spring-beauty have to deal with wintry winds, frosty nights, even snow and ice. But there are benefits to their lifestyle. The ground is wet with snow melt and the trees have not yet begun to compete for the water. Plenty of nutrients from last year’s dead leaves have leached into the soil. And there’s much light because tree leaves have yet to shade the forest floor.

Unfortunately, overpopulating deer, ravenous after a long winter, find most ephemerals irresistible. And a plant eaten soon after it sprouts cannot make and store food in its roots so it can reappear next year, and cannot produce seeds for future generations.

Thus, in many woods, ephemerals have become invisibles.

Pain relief

2007-03-16T19:12:00.000-04:00

An amazing thing about the Pussy Willow is its color – or more specifically, the lack of it. Few shades are duller than gray, yet the flowers of the Pussy Willow are among the most beloved of any spring bloom.

Therein lies its charm. This bush wins us with form, not flash. Its catkins are catlike, all cute and furry like the tail of a kitten, and they wrap themselves along the branches like so many fuzzy caterpillars marching to the sky.

It also wins us with timing, blooming with the first thaws of March. But for those in a hurry for signs of spring, snipping off a few bloomless branches and sticking them in water will net wands of premature catkins.

The wonders of the willow were known to Hippocrates in ancient Greece and to North American Indians. However, both were interested not in the flowers, but the bark, which produced a painkiller called salicin. This, in turn, led to the discovery of salicylic acid, and to synthesizing acetylsalicylic acid – what we call aspirin.

So, it seems that Pussy Willows can relieve a lot more than just the bleakness of winter.

Wings and water

2007-03-09T18:15:00.000-05:00

Early March is when many water-loving birds return to the Northeast: Red-winged Blackbirds, Kingfishers, and several kinds of ducks, for instance. Swamps, streams and ponds are a draw for the first migrants because they offer food from the earliest bits of new life as well as from some leftovers of old life.

As soon as the ice begins to thaw, insects such as carrion-eating flies start to appear in the air and others emerge in the water. Fish, once protected by ice, become exposed, and amphibians like salamanders and spring peepers crawl out of their winter beds. Plants that like wet feet become accessible in the water and begin to grow in the swamps.

Wetlands also offer treats left from last season in the form of berries and seeds still held by plants like buttonbush. The bush’s aged but still tasty fruits are designed to attract the hungry migrants. The birds eat and soon “plant” the seeds, complete with fertilizer, far from the mother bush and just in time for a new growing season.

Winds of life

2007-02-27T18:13:00.000-05:00

March is famous as the month that roars in with leonine force, pruning some trees and felling others. But in the world of trees, the March wind is a new-life giver as well as an old-life taker.

As any allergy sufferer knows, trees produce enormous amounts of pollen – a single tassel of birch flowers can disperse 10 million grains. March winds can bear the pollen of red maples, American elms, ashes, willows, and other early bloomers to fertilize distant flowers, leading to seeds and, if all goes well, a new tree.

The wind is a reliable, effective vehicle for arboreal intercourse. Some years ago, the Paris Botanical Garden had a pair of female pistachio trees that bloomed for years but never fruited. Then one year, both were full of nuts. A researcher found that some miles away, on the other side of the city, someone's new, male pistachio had bloomed for the first time that year.

While a high wind in March may spell the end for a few old trees, it can also bring life to many others.

The hungry hawk

2007-02-20T18:11:00.000-05:00

As the compiler of a column called BirdNotes, I regularly get reports of hungry hawks knocking off backyard birds – one once even tried to fly through a pet store window to dine on a budgie. (He was unsuccessful.)

Winter is the best hunting season for year-round hawks. The trees are free of leaves and dinner is out in the open, ready for the plucking. For the same reason, winter is the best time to witness “bird hawks” in action.

Often hawks will be seen perched near a backyard birdfeeder. People sometimes feel guilty when they watch a hawk capture a bird attracted to their feeders. Don’t. If the hawk hadn’t gotten its meal at your feeder, it would have found it in another yard or field. Your feeder just makes it a tad more convenient for nature to take its course.

After all, like it or not, it’s a bird-eat-bird world out there.

Fisher food

2007-02-16T18:08:00.000-05:00

In recent years townspeople have reported sighting fishers, the 10- to 15-pound weasel-like martens that have been making a recovery in the region.

Their appearance is no accident. In 1988, the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection bought a bunch of live-trapped fishers from upper New England, and released them in western Connecticut. The aim was to restore an animal that had once been native to the state, but had been driven away by the agricultural deforestation and perhaps overtrapping. Today, fishers are found throughout the state and are doing so well, licensed trapping is allowed in the fall.

While fishers don’t fish – or even eat fish, they do love a tasty porcupine. That thorny fare is in rather short supply, however, so they have turned to a more abundant mammal for food: The squirrel.

In fact, in northern Vermont and New Hampshire, where the fisher was never extirpated, squirrels are much less common than they are here. The natives say it’s because the fishers keep them under control – good news for anyone who’s ever had squirrels invade their home.

Cool sweets

2007-02-06T18:26:00.000-05:00

If you have a sweet tooth, the cold snap is a boon. At least two weeks of freezing nights are needed for our maples to produce a good flow of late-winter sap, the source of America’s oldest breakfast condiment.

The warmth of first month of winter was beginning to make the sap tappers nervous. And there are plenty of maple harvesters around: little Connecticut ranks 10^th in the United States in its maple syrup production – some 11,000 gallons annually.

The American Indians were the first to recognize the treat offered by maple sap, boiled down to its syrupy or solid essences. But it is only recently that scientists have found that this sweetener is actually good for you. A single teaspoon contains nearly a quarter of your daily need of manganese and plus a good dose of zinc to boot. Both minerals are important ingredients in the body’s antioxidant defenses.

So our maples not only provide sweet treats, plus shade, oxygen, and terrific fall colors, they also contribute to our good health.

Hoop poles

2007-01-30T19:08:00.000-05:00

Mention a “hoop pole” today and you might inspire images of basketball or tent supports. A century or two ago, however, hoop poles were a well-known and valuable commodity that many local farmers harvested from the wild to earn extra cash.

Hoop poles were long, straight rods, cut in the woods from ash, hickory, hazel, and white oak saplings or from bushes that had been specially pruned for the purpose. While they might be cut in spring or fall, farmers often processed them in midwinter, when they were less busy. Bark and shoots, for instance, had to be removed.

The poles were used around the farm for many tasks such as rollers for moving heavy loads and for temporary floors under haystacks. They were also split to make barrel hoops and basket-weaving material; the poles were hammered to flatten them, soaked in water, and then split into the hoops that held the barrel staves together.

Perhaps the oddest use for hoop poles, however, was as stiffeners in the colossal, but fashionable skirts women sometimes wore in the 19^th Century.

Role of roads

2007-01-23T07:48:00.000-05:00

From the earliest days of our communities, highways were of great importance, but for much different reasons than they are today. The role of roads has changed significantly in the past century or so.

Two hundred ago, roads were chiefly lines of communication. They connected homestead with homestead, families with town and church, and towns with towns. There were no telephones, no radio, no television, no Internet, and no local newspapers. News traveled mostly by word of mouth, and mouths traveled over roads.

In those days work kept most people at home, not away from it. The farm was their occupation and their chief source of food and clothing. Today, work is often far from home and supplies are in town or the nearby city, all reachable by highways. News, on the other hand, arrives with the flick of a switch, the opening of a mailbox, the toss of a paper carrier, or the ring of a telephone.

In many ways, a road of old was like a wire of today.

Uncomfortable cold

2007-01-17T18:13:00.000-05:00

Temperatures have dipped into the teens, and ice is forming on ponds. Yes, we’re finally feeling cold.

What we’re feeling, though, is nothing like what folks used to feel.

The people who settled New England experienced cold as you would never want to. In January and February, frigid air was a 24/7 phenomenon inside most houses, which were inefficiently heated and poorly insulated.

Until the arrival of central heating in the late 19^th Century, houses were often iceboxes in winter. It was not unusual to have the water in the house turn to ice overnight and to have snow leak through windows and stay frozen on the floor. Frostbite was a problem not only outside, but indoors, where bedroom temperatures could approach zero. And let’s not even think of what outhouses were like.

So as your nose and fingers tingle and your breath freezes in front of you when you leave your well-heated home, take a moment to remember those hardy people who came before us and who knew few comforts at this time of year.

Bunny blues

2007-01-09T19:33:00.000-05:00

Pity the poor New England Cottontail: It’s disappearing from its namesake.

The only native rabbit in southern Connecticut, the New England Cottontail was once widespread from southeastern New York to Maine. Today, studies by Connecticut and New Hampshire biologists are finding so few that this bunny has become a candidate for the federal Endangered Species List.

Several forces are working against the New England Cottontail. The thickets it lives in are disappearing, thanks to both man-made and natural changes. Its food is being gobbled up by deer and by the alien Eastern Cottontail, the rabbit we see all the time. Introduced a century ago by hunters seeking new game, the Eastern Cottontail is more adaptable to suburbanization.

There’s also the growing number of hawks, owls, coyotes, foxes, and even fishers, for whom rabbit is fine fare.

If all that isn’t bad enough, the New England Cottontail suffers from an identity crisis. It looks so much like an Eastern Cottontail that DNA samples are often needed to confirm that it’s native, not alien.

So even if you see one close-up, it’s tough to tell the rabbit is rare.

Tie Hacking

2007-01-01T12:48:00.000-05:00

New England farmers were famous for not wasting time, energy or resources. Even in January and February, when the ground was frozen and snow covered, they were hard at work outdoors.

Mid-winter was the time for cutting down and chopping up trees. Most wood was bound for the fireplace or the stove, but not all.

In the 19^th Century many local farmers made railroad ties. Tens of millions of these eight-foot, six-inch logs were needed yearly, not only to support new tracks being laid across America but also to replace existing sleepers, whose life expectancy was only about five years. The ties were cut and sledded back to the farm where were they were hand-hewn into shape. In the spring or summer, they were carted to the depot and sold to the railroad.

Even the bark shaved off the logs was saved and sold to local tanneries, which used bark extract in processing leather.

“Tie hacking,” as it was called, provided useful income to many people, most of whom were subsistence farmers growing little more than was needed for the family. In fact, many farmers earned more from winter work than summer crops.

SAD days

2006-12-28T06:45:00.000-05:00

At this time of year, winter-haters can find a little solace in the fact that the days are getting longer.

Last week on Dec. 21, the winter solstice, we had nine hours and four minutes of daylight. By Jan. 9, we will be getting all of nine hours and 17 minutes of day. While that's a far cry from the 15 hours and 17 minutes we'll have at the summer solstice June 21, the trend at least is comforting and full of hope of warmer times.

For many, the lack of sunlight brings on seasonal affective disorder, whose signs include depression, irritability, overeating, and lethargy. It shows that despite the lofty place to which homo sapiens has risen among the animals, we are still creatures of nature and subject to her powers.

In fact, seasonal affective disorder may be a sign that nature really wants us to be more like bears. We should just fatten up and find a nice warm cave for the winter.

Some people have found a substitute. It’s called Florida.

The Lord of Misrule

2006-12-19T19:32:00.000-05:00

Christmas celebrations are not always sacred and solemn, as we well know, but one of the oddest practices was once commonplace in old England where the Lord of Misrule reigned at this time of year.

Cities, towns, and universities across the country appointed these public officials for the 12 days of Christmas. “His duties,” said a 19^th Century historian, “were to lead and direct the multifarious revels of the season.” It was no trifling job, either; the Lord of Misrule of London in 1635 spent 2,000 pounds – nearly $500,000 today – on public merriment.

One of the lord’s first official acts each year was to absolve all people of their wisdom, but to demand that they be just wise enough to make fools of themselves. He then set about encouraging “reveling, epicurisme, wantonesse, idlenesse, dancing, drinking, stage-plaies, masques, and carnall pompe and jollity,” according to one contemporary critic.

In an era with no shortage of misrulers in the world, it’s a wonder the ancient office hasn’t been resurrected.

Unholy holly

2006-12-13T18:25:00.000-05:00

We deck the halls with boughs of it, we name Christmas-born girls after it, and – if we're like Burl Ives – we even get jolly over it. But why do we love holly at Christmastide?

Decorating with green boughs, wreaths, and garlands was a practice of Saturnalia, a holiday season of the ancient Romans that fell around this time of year. The custom was picked up by early Christians in their efforts to woo pagans to their new religion. They made greens a Christian symbol, pointing out that Christ made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem over paths strewn with palms.

However, holly may be more practical than symbolic. Evergreens are an attractive ornament. They are available in the cold of winter and last long after picking. The holly, with its shiny leaves and red berries, is particularly decorative.

While its name may seem associated with holy, holly comes from the Old English word for pricker or arrow. And some of holly customs have a sharp side. As they festooned their parlors centuries ago, English families would chant appropriate – if not elegant – carols. As the holly went up, their voices rang out a song that included:

Whosoever against the holly do cry
In a rope shall be hung full high.
Allelujah!

So watch what you cry, and, in the tradition of Mr. Ives, have a holly, jolly holiday – be it Christmas, Hanukah, or Kwanzaa.

They’re coming…

2006-12-12T18:58:00.001-05:00

It’s tough being a commuter, traveling winding back roads and crowded expressways at dawn and dusk. Visibility is often poor as headlights shine in your eyes and perhaps rain, snow or fog blur your vision. Through all this, you must constantly keep alert for deer, which seem suicidally bent on throwing their 200-pound bodies at you.

Now come warnings that moose on the move, extending their territory well into Connecticut and southeastern New York. And the difference between a moose and a deer is like the difference between a Doberman and a Chihuahua.

In September, a car struck and killed a 700-pound bull moose at Barkhamstead in upstate Connecticut. A month early, a crash killed a 500-pound moose in Goshen. These weren’t even “big” ones – moose can reach 1,100 pounds.

Connecticut wildlife experts estimate more than 100 moose are now in the state and their numbers are growing as their range extends southward toward metropolitan New York City.

What’s a motorist to do? The best advice is: Slow down! Be it deer or moose, or maybe even a 400-pound bear, the slower you’re going, the less the impact. You may even be able to avoid an impact altogether.

Firewood words

2006-12-05T07:47:00.000-05:00

“Don’t let it lie in great sticks,” the Old Farmer’s Almanac urged its readers for December 1864. The season of sawing and splitting was here.

For the local farmers, early December was the time to work on wood, not for the winter ahead, but for the next summer and beyond. Wood for stoves and fireplaces needed drying, for sap-filled “green” wood cuts heat output by a third. Split up, firewood dries quickly and, as the almanac exhorted, it was best left outside a while in the late-fall weather. “Give it the wind a few weeks before housing, and it will dry all right,” the “old farmer” wrote.

Today, many people still heat with wood, using sophisticated stoves that burn logs and even conveyor-fed wood pellets, or employing high-tech furnaces that can burn both wood and propane or fuel oil.

But the old farmer’s old advice on firewood still holds true: Dry it right to burn it well.

A lampmussel’s return

2006-11-28T07:46:00.001-05:00

All environmental news isn’t bad: Behold the Yellow Lampmussel.

Last July, two naturalists canoeing on the Connecticut River found the first Yellow Lampmussel identified in the state since 1961. Once common and widespread, this mollusk was a source of food, currency, and jewelry for the American Indians. Colonists ate the meat and made buttons from the shells, whose interiors are lined with mother of pearl.

In nature, lampmussels help filter the water of both good and bad substances. They are also food for River Otters and other small mammals, as well as fish.

The Yellow Lampmussel succumbed to the activities of man, particularly polluting, damming, and dredging. The fact that they are being rediscovered here and in neighboring states, says the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection, is a sign that the health of at least some rivers is improving.

We can do our own part in creating healthy waterways by eliminating – or at least carefully using – pesticides, fertilizers and other chemicals on our yards. Remember, say environmental officials, “what you put on the land will eventually end up in our rivers.”

Beauty in the beast

2006-11-21T18:20:00.000-05:00

Each fall, the Turkey Vultures return. Often roosting in roadside evergreens, they may be drawn there by area's wealth of carcasses of deer, squirrel, possum, and other creatures fallen victim to the car.

Some also get a seasonal treat. At least one family places the family turkey, picked clean after Thanksgiving dinner, in the back yard each year. Like clockwork, the vultures appear to pick it even cleaner.

In the air, few birds can match the vulture’s beauty. They glide for miles on outstretched, six-foot wings that rarely flap – soaring, angling, dipping, and rocking, all as effortlessly as a goldfish in a pool. Sliding over the treetops as they approach their roost, they are like so many 747s arriving at an airport.

Close-up and on the ground, however, the vulture looks like a character from a horror movie. With the black body of a fat undertaker, the huge bird bears a featherless, big-beaked, red-fleshed head – all the better to dip into the corpses with.

Sometimes beauty is not only in the eye, but in the distance of the beholder.

Whoooo is there?

2006-11-14T07:46:00.000-05:00

Interested in riding around in the middle of the night, emitting strange sounds in the woods and fields? If so, Connecticut wants you.

Concerned about the future of owls in the state, the Department of Environmental Protection has begun surveys to get a sense of their numbers, distribution, habitat, and habits in general. The problem with owls, of course, is that they are mostly nocturnal and are hard to see, so relatively little is known about them.

Volunteer surveyors hit the road at midnight with special sound equipment that broadcasts the calls of Barred, Northern Saw-Whet, Great Horned, Eastern Screech, and Barn Owls. They play the calls and hope for responses. This year, teams traversed 13 routes with 130 survey points, and got responses at 30 locations.

They found more than 30 birds – but no Barn Owls like the one above. Perhaps like the buildings they are named for, Barn Owls are disappearing, too.

If you don’t mind night work and would like to help find whooooo’s around Connecticut, call Shannon Kearney-McGee, 860-675-8130, to volunteer for the 2007 owl survey.

Abscission

2006-11-10T17:43:00.000-05:00

As we rake, sweep and blow away the final leaves of autumn, we might wonder why they’re there – on the ground, that is, and not in the trees.

One reason was made clear here in 1987 when, on Oct. 4, a mere three inches of snow fell on leaves that were still healthy and green. The weight of snow-laded leaves felled countless limbs and trees, and knocked out power as long as four days. Broad leaves and snow just don’t mix on most large plants.

So as snow season approaches, trees shed their leaves, a process called abscission. In the fall the tree produces an “abscission layer,” a waxy substance at the base of each leaf stem. This substance, called suberin, first cuts off food and water to the leaves, resulting in the color changes.

Then, suberin’s added weight helps sever the leaves, freeing the tree of the burden and giving us our annual November exercise.

Birds at night

2006-10-30T18:06:00.000-05:00

Where do birds go at night – especially in the winter?

When heading off to sleep, birds are looking for protection from two things: enemies and the elements. Because of this – and, of course, the fact that it’s dark out – people rarely see sleeping birds.

Diurnal birds – those active in the daytime – have various ways of spending the night. Many small songbirds simply find a branch in a convenient tree to protect themselves from wind, rain and snow. Some favor thick bushes and shrubs. Many like spruces, hemlocks and other evergreens whose needles provide a degree of year-round protection. Cavity dwellers, such as woodpeckers and wrens, may make use of holes in trees or among rocks or fallen trees.

Outside breeding season, many songbirds such as robins, bluebirds and even cardinals will gather in flocks and sleep together. Some birds, such as crows, vultures, and starlings, will roost in great numbers. Roosts provide protection in numbers as well as a modicum of heat generated by all the bodies being fairly close together.

Gull, ducks and geese will float on water at night, usually in groups, while some shorebirds will settle down for the night on a relatively remote beach or in grass at the edge of the shore.

Some birds, such as Common Redpolls, ptarmigans and Ruffed Grouse, will bury themselves in snow at night, taking advantage of its insulating quality. It was a technique emulated by North American Indians as they journeyed away from camp in winter.

Fishing for cats

2006-10-17T08:01:00.000-04:00

A century ago our suburban countryside was largely farmers’ fields, a moonscape compared to today. Now, the trees have returned, and with them, some woodland creatures that haven’t been seen since before the colonists flattened the forests primeval.

A case in point is the fisher. This 10- to 15-pound marten has long been found in northern New England and forested regions across North America. But until a few years ago, these weasel-like mammals were unknown here. Now that the trees are back, so are the fishers.

Sometimes called fisher cats, fishers neither fish nor are they even closely related to cats. In fact, they may be a cat’s worst enemy. Fishers usually feed on wild mammals ranging from mice and voles to porcupines and young deer. In suburbia, however, domestic cats are becoming a fisher delicacy. And there’s little a hapless cat can do – run up a tree and the arboreal fisher will follow right behind.

It’s another good reason why all pet cats should be house cats.

Eat a sheep’s nose

2006-10-10T07:42:00.000-04:00

Nothing gives more, yet asks less in return, than a tree, particularly the apple,” said Jonathan Chapman. Better known as Johnny Appleseed, Chapman spent a half-century promoting the apple's many gifts. Besides providing flowers in the spring and shade in the summer, the tree gives us fruit in the fall. Countless dishes – from pies and cakes to sauces and butters – are made from apples. We can drink its juice and, if we age it a bit, tipple its hard cider.

The fruit is tasty and nutritious, full of fiber. It comes in a perfect package: attractive, long-lasting, and 100% biodegradable.

More than 2,000 apple varieties were once grown in the United States, offering a huge variety of flavors, as well as textures, colors, picking times, and durability. Apples names like Westfield, York imperial, black gilliflower, Baker, Newtown pippin, Stayman, and Esopus Spitzenburg were once commonplace. Today we’re lucky to find a half-dozen kinds in a supermarket and a dozen at an orchard.

However, “antiques” are still around and if you’re out for a ride in rural America, watch for an orchard carrying Dutchess of Oldenburg, opalescent, Ashmeads kernel, or even sheep’s nose. Buy a bag and taste America’s yesterday.

The survivalists

2006-10-03T17:57:00.000-04:00

The season of migration is well underway as millions of birds flee the coming cold.

Their journeys often amaze us with their length and navigational expertise. The Arctic Tern flies 11,000 miles from northern Canada to Antarctica each fall. The hummingbird, weighing but a fraction of an ounce, may traverse a thousand miles of the Gulf of Mexico to reach winter grounds. Many songbirds fly hundreds of miles each night, guided only by stars or some invisible magnetic field.

Amazing all. But what of the birds that choose to stay? Are they just lazy? Hardly.

While their migrating brethren are enjoying temperate shores and tropical forests, our year-round birds face cold and snow. They must survive winter’s winds and frigid temperatures. They must find sustenance when a foot or more of snow covers the ground. Many must spend months in preparation, storing food for winter use – and later remembering the hundreds of caches they made.

Whether they are winging their way to warmth, or just crouching against the cold, birds are astounding survivalists.

Scents of the seasons

2006-09-30T16:46:00.000-04:00

The seasons have their own smells, distinctive scents in the air that are as tell-tale of time as the vegetation on the ground.

Spring arrives with a sour-sweet smell that arises from the brooks and swamps as soon as the snow melts. It comes from the rotted leaves and roots of last year’s plants that will feed this year’s growth.

Flowers appear, and you can almost tell the part of the month by the fragrances – the early Andromeda, tulip trees, magnolias, mustards, lilacs, and rockets. Like the season, they are fresh, sweet, celebrating rebirth. Then come the rich, heady scents of summer – the wild roses, clovers, milkweeds, pokeweed, and Queen Anne's lace. As summer wanes into fall, the goldenrods and Joe-Pye weeds begin filling the air with spice – scents of anise and vanilla.

And then the leaves begin to fall, offering an earthy but pleasant aroma of decay, only to be covered with the snow. Snow has a scent of its own and its coming on the wind is easily forecast with a good sniff.

The scents of the seasons are a calendar for the nose. Enjoy the latest page!

A kick and a puff

2006-09-26T08:04:00.000-04:00

Ages before video games or even Lego and Erector sets, children often entertained themselves with the toys of nature. In early autumn, a favorite was the Giant Puffball, a magical fungus that can reach massive proportions – in the world of fungi, at least. Specimens measuring six feet across and weighing more than 40 pounds have been found.

For a kid in the 18^th or 19^th Century, a big, white puffball sprouting in a pasture was just too tempting to ignore. Perhaps presaging their descendants’ interest in football and soccer, youngsters would invariably give the “ball” a good, swift kick. The reward was the namesake puff: A thick cloud of more than a trillion spores could burst from a ripe puffball.

The kicker probably did the fungus a favor, for the spores are its seeds and the kick cast the fate of future generations to the wind. Odds of success for a microscopic spore are slim, however, for its chances of creating a new Giant Puffball are literally one in billions.

Bounty from above

2006-09-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

They say that tall oaks from little acorns grow. Judging from this year’s acorn supply, the region will be well-forested in the future.

Oaks occasionally generate bountiful acorn crops – and many years, produce not a nut. Last spring apparently offered ideal conditions for pollinating oak flowers – dry, warm weather.

Of course, most of this year’s bumper crop will be consumed – by nearly 100 kinds of birds and mammals. For creatures as small as a nuthatch or a mouse and as large as a bear and a deer, acorns are a major source of food in the fall. The ebb and flow of populations of such common creatures as Gray Squirrels and Blue Jays are closely related to acorn yields.

With so many fans in nature, you’d think humans would be acorn-eaters, too. In fact, they once were: American Indians and early settlers ate acorns. Today, however, we’ve been spoiled by the sweeter meats of peanuts, cashews, almonds, and other nuts that are also easier to process – and to salt.

Fairy rings

2006-09-12T07:48:00.000-04:00

Fairy rings are magical places, nearly perfect circles of mushrooms that run from a few to many feet in diameter. Also called fairy circles or pixie rings, they were more often seen in the days when pastures were common and before chemicals and frequent mowing turned lawns into monotonous carpets of green.

A fairy ring marks the edge of an underground growth of fungus, called mycelium. This subterranean body spreads slowly outward, emitting chemicals ahead of it that convert organic matter to food usable by the fungus. When the time is right, the mycelium shoots up mushrooms at its outer edge. Like flowers on plants, they distribute spores that will create future fungi and, perhaps, fairy rings.

That’s the scientific explanation. Folklorists tell more colorful tales of fairies and elves, dancing in circles, wearing down the grass and sparking toadstools to sprout. If you weren’t careful and stepped inside a fairy ring, you might be transported into another world.

More fantastic than folklore is fact, however. There’s a fairy ring in France that’s a half-mile wide and said to be 700 years old!