A Fellow Listener

When I have some free time (which is most of the time), I often sit on the front porch and listen to music.  Of course, like other old men on porches, I greet neighbors as they wander by.

Over the past week, I have attracted a fellow listener.  She doesn't have anything to say but seems to enjoy the tunes as much as I do.  Before rumors of a scandalous romance develop, I should report that she is a mourning dove.

Landing on a post of our lattice work, she tilts her head to locate the source and settles in for at least twenty minutes.  No doubt, birds are highly attuned to sounds and I'm glad this dove appreciates my selection.  Her company is more than welcome. 

Our Avian Alarm Clock

Here on our Littleton, Colorado, farm, one does not need an alarm clock.  Our resident spotted towhees begin calling at the first light of dawn, often right outside our bedroom window.  Unfortunately, in mid summer, that is usually about 5 AM.

I challenge anyone to keep sleeping when a towhee is delivering its loud, ringing call a few feet away.  You might as well heed its not-so-subtle suggestion and get an early start on the day.

We have a family of spotted towhees on the farm and their calls do not end with the sunrise.  Indeed, they are our most vocal residents at any time of day.  Should we decide to retire at sunset, they will sing us to sleep as well. 

Raccoon at Noon

Sitting in the shade on our Littleton, Colorado, farm, I was surprised to see a raccoon wandering about our backyard.  Since they are primarily nocturnal, I generally encounter raccoons very early or late in the day or am awakened at night by their squabbling.  To see a raccoon just before noon on a hot, sunny day was thus unusual.

Raccoons do tend to be solitary creatures for most of the year though they may gather in small same-sex groups.  Mating occurs from January to March and a litter of 2-5 kits is typical.  The mother and her offspring disperse by late summer and at least half of the kits will be dead within a year, usually succumbing to starvation, predation or automobiles.  Adults rarely live longer than three years in the wild.

Our solitary visitor seemed to have emerged from the barn, beneath which he is likely denning.  Due to their poor long-distance eyesight, he did not take notice of my presence as he scoured the shrub line and "lawn" for fruit, various invertebrates or mice.  Once he disappeared into our "wild corner," consisting of a compost bin, a brush pile and overgrown vegetation, I went inside to let him hunt in peace. 

Summer Slowdown

Ask naturalists to rank the seasons by their level of interest and most would place summer last on the list.  Of course, there are exceptions, especially for those focused on insects, amphibians and reptiles, and, to be honest, each season offers its special rewards when it comes to flora and weather.

But summer induces a general slowdown for most species of wildlife as the midday heat suppresses activity.  The mating and nesting seasons are over, there are no migrants passing through and the abundance of food diminishes the need to forage any significant distance.  Furthermore, many birds and mammals limit their excursions to the early morning and evening hours.

Late summer does bring an influx of avian wanderers and the first substantial wave of migrants (especially shorebirds) but that seems far off as we endure the summer heat.  Facing a longer summer season as our climate warms, we best learn to enjoy it. 

The Peak of Verdancy

Across central latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere, early June brings the peak of verdancy.  Fueled by moist soil and the lengthening period of sunlight, greenery abounds.  In some areas, certain trees have just recently leafed out and prolonged episodes of heat have not yet materialized.

In concert, all forms of wildlife are taking advantage of the lush growth and, in the case of birds and mammals, adults are busily attending to their offspring.  Consequently, it is a great time for birders and other wildlife enthusiasts to visit our parks and nature preserves.

By later in the month, the intense sun will begin to take a toll and plant life will rely on roving bands of summer thunderstorms for vital moisture.  Adaptation to heat will then become the focus of plants, wild creatures and humans alike.  So enjoy the verdancy of late spring while it lasts; climate change may soon alter both the nature and the timing of this seasonal transition.

Flashback Post LXVI

Following an unpleasant encounter with a water-logged black lab at South Platte Park, I thought it would be appropriate to republish a post from April of 2014.

See:  The Futility of Leash Laws 

The Fence Walker

Heading out back on a cool, sunny morning, I was watching a group of songbirds in one of our pinyon pines when I caught sight of our resident red fox.   She was not nosing her way across our "lawn" or sniffing for voles in a pasture.  Rather, she was trotting across the top of our back fence (photo).

She stopped and looked my way but is used to my presence and continued on her way.  Having owned the

property for more than 30 years, this was a unique experience.  The top of the fence is no more than four inches wide and I was truly impressed with her agility.

Such are the many rewards of spending time in the great outdoors.  Common creatures engaged in uncommon behavior is just a small (yet entertaining) part of nature's tremendous diversity.

Flashback Post LXV

Happy Mother's Day to all who have taken on the greatest responsibility on our planet.  A post from May of 2014 expresses that sentiment.

See: More Mothers than Fathers

Flashback Post LXIV

March and April tend to be fickle months in the American Heartland, a fact I acknowledged in a post back on April 1, 2012.

See: Fooled by March 

Calling Peter

This morning, a tufted titmouse called incessantly from our neighbor's tree.  Phonetically described as "Peter-peter-peter," the call is common background noise in the suburbs of the Central and Eastern U.S.

Though very common in that region, this small, attractive songbird is known primarily to birders and to those who put out sunflower feeders or suet.  Their diet consists mostly of insects and larvae but seeds and berries are also consumed, especially during the winter months.

As much as I enjoy having them around, their call can be annoying at times, especially for those of us who like to read outside.  Then again, who am I, a member of the most annoying species on the planet, to complain about their loud, ringing call; it is, after all, purely instinctual. 

The Sounds of Winter

Throughout the life of this blog, I have often referred to winter as "the quiet season."  Indeed, once we get away from human activity, we appreciate this silence during the cold, snowy months.  Bird song is suppressed, many animals are hibernating (as adults, larvae or eggs) and most of nature's predators are nocturnal, resting in their dens or cavities during the day.

There are exceptions, of course.  Roving bands of crows, magpies, and blue jays make their presence known and woodpeckers drum away for their meals.  In some areas, where waterfowl, gulls or terns are wintering, they can be quite noisy as well.  Here along the Front Range, Canada geese are the primary noisemakers; comprised of permanent and winter residents and joined by their smaller cousins, cackling geese, their vocal flocks are often heard from a distance, intensifying as they stream overhead.

By the end of this month, the silence will begin to break as male songbirds respond to the lengthening daylight.  Their urgent tunes will then ring through our neighborhoods, announcing the onset of spring. 

Flickers Tune Up

As mild weather reclaims the Front Range, the first tentative calls of norther flickers are echoing across our Littleton farm.  Throughout February and March, these prolonged and hysterical calls, combined with intense drumming on dead limbs, downspouts and roof-top vents, will herald the onset of spring.

Such mating behavior is common throughout the animal kingdom but is generally not so obvious.  Indeed, the noisy antics of these large woodpeckers is impossible to ignore.

Nevertheless, their calls and drumming are among the earliest signs of spring, heard long before the season of snow is over (especially here in Colorado).  Though the flickers are responding to the lengthening daylight, their promise of warmer days, greenery and the glories of spring is welcomed by winter-weary humans. 

Flashback Post LXII

During the recent stretch of cold, snowy weather, whenever I went out to explore the farm, I was reminded of a post that I published back in December, 2006.

See: In Praise of Chickadees 

Wind Dancers

Yesterday afternoon, as a strong, southeast wind raked Metro Denver, I caught sight of two double-crested cormorants, circling high above our farm.  Powerful fliers, usually seen making beelines across bays or lakes, they do often soar during the warmer months.

This pair, not content to merely soar, engaged in brief dives as they danced in the clear blue sky, a behavior I had not seen before in that species.  As they moved on, a pair of red-tailed hawks took the stage, seemingly prepared to outshine the cormorants.  Of course, their agility was far superior and some of their dives were breathtaking.

Were this a competition, the medals would go to the hawks.  But, at least for this judge, the cormorants earned points for originality.  Note to fellow birders: don't forget to look up; you just might miss the show.

Blue Jay Mystery

The Front Range urban corridor stretches along the western edge of blue jay breeding territory in North America.  West of here, in the foothills and mountains, they are replaced scrub jays, Steller's jays and gray jays.

Since we purchased our Littleton farm, in 1990, blue jays have been common visitors on the property though I have never observed nesting activity here; on bird counts of the farm, a couple of blue jays would generally make the list.  During my current visit, however, blue jays have been especially common, their raucous calls and musical trills echoing across the farm; indeed, their numbers have been second only to house finches (which have long been our most abundant avian resident).  Since some blue jays do migrate southward for the winter, our current visitors might reflect that fact (though they have stayed for almost two weeks). 

Like many songbirds, blue jays form flocks during the colder months but their numbers here seem exceptional compared with past years.  My guess is that this influx is an adaptation to suburban sprawl and "development" in Metro Denver, forcing the jays to gather in or near the dwindling areas with large trees: at parks, along greenbelts and near the few old farms that still exist. 

Subjective Sports

Whenever I tune into the Olympics, I prefer to watch objectively measured sporting events, those in which outcomes are measured by the parameters of time, distance, weight, scored points, accuracy, etc.

Subjective sports, such as gymnastics and diving, rely on the assessment of judges.  While I'm sure that most try to be accurate and fair, they are humans, subject to the influence of expectation, anticipation and, dare I suggest, bias.  Though I certainly admire the athletic skills of the competitors, I find that the scoring system is painfully fickle.

No doubt, once again, my naturalist philosophy plays into my sports watching preference.  After all, natural predators and their prey species survive based on their physical prowess (speed, strength, agility), not on specific performance criteria.  Nature is neither judgmental nor subjective.

Hovering Grasshoppers

Sitting in the shade on another hot, sunny day along the Front Range, I watched a small group of grasshoppers, hovering above our burned-out "lawn."  Though I have often seen them making brief flights between feeding areas, I don't recall having observed such prolonged hovering.

Indeed, to my human eye, they resembled a patrol of military choppers, searching for enemies in the grassy tangles below.  In fact, they were likely male grasshoppers, trying to impress females on the ground.  This mating behavior, apparently common, has managed to escape my attention over the years.

Just the latest example of my limited knowledge of the complexity and diversity of nature, despite many years in the field.  We should all acknowledge our incomplete understanding of the natural world and protect as much as possible while it still exists. We depend on her varied ecosystems far more than we are willing to admit. 

Bird vs. Snake

On this beautiful and less humid morning, I made another summer visit to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area.  Though it is still too early for the shorebird migration to begin, I did encounter a decent variety of birds, including a family of wood ducks and a lone Mississippi kite.  But the highlight of my visit was provided by a single bird.

Experienced birders know that red-winged blackbirds are bold and aggressive creatures, inclined to defend their territory from any perceived enemy.  This morning, one demonstrated a rather extreme example of that trait, chasing a large black snake across the road.  Nipping at its tail as the reptile headed for cover in the marsh, the red-wing was fearless in his attack.

Of course, instinct and intelligence are two different things and a sudden swipe of the snake's tail might have put an end to the hero's life.  As it turned out, he was able to return to his flock where the reception was likely just as instinctual (i.e. no medals or parades). 

Heron under Attack

This morning, at Phillips Lake, my wife and I encountered a flock of red-winged blackbirds, dive bombing a small tree along the marsh-lined inlet.  Upon closer examination, we found a green heron, huddled on one of the branches.

Common across the central and eastern U.S. during the warmer months, this small heron prefers to hunt along secluded lakeshores, in the dense vegetation of swamps or along the shaded banks of streams.  Since they feed primarily on small fish, aquatic invertebrates, large insects and amphibians, I doubt the blackbirds had much to worry about.  Then again, red-wings are aggressive and gregarious birds and are quick to attack any perceived enemy.

After enduring the onslaught for several minutes, the heron squawked and took off over the lake, escorted and harassed by several of the blackbirds.  Perhaps it had been too close to their nests; whatever the reason for their attack, I doubt the heron will be returning to that feeding site anytime soon. 

Sex & Procreation

Last evening, I watched thousands of periodic cicadas swarm our large deciduous trees.  Blue jays and starlings turned up to munch on a few while flocks of chimney swifts devoured those that strayed above the treetops.  

Gathering to mate, the cicadas' behavior is purely instinctual; like almost all animals, they do not understand its purpose.  They have no concept of parents and will never see their children.  Yet, their behavior is an important cog in nature's cycle of life.

We humans, endowed with a large brain, have long understood the relationship between sex and procreation.  We have also come to recognize the importance of sexual activity beyond its role in perpetuating our species.  Unfortunately, certain segments of human society (religious and political) want us to function like cicadas; in their minds, sex is purely a procreative act and any behavior that disrupts this association is sinful, illegal or both.