Wilson's Phalaropes

Wilson's phalaropes are slender "shorebirds" that breed across the Great Plains and Great Basin and winter on high altitude, alkaline lakes in South America.  Come spring, they generally move northward across the Great Plains while, in fall, they stage on alkaline lakes of the Great Basin before flying south.  Here in central Missouri, they are uncommon migrants.

I was thus pleased to encounter a pair of Wilson's phalaropes at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area on this cool, rainy morning.  Mingling with a large flock of lesser yellowlegs, the phalaropes appeared to be gleaning insects from the surface; when in larger congregations, they typically spin about, stirring up larvae and other aquatic invertebrates from the shallows.  This species is also known to consume a variety of seeds from aquatic plants.

But it is on their breeding grounds that the unusual behavior of these long-distance migrants becomes most evident.  There, the female phalarope chooses her mate (or several mates) and designates nest sites (usually at the edge of freshwater ponds); the male(s) complete the nest building and, once she lays her eggs, take over incubation and parental duties.  She, in turn, is free to lounge through the summer until the autumn migration begins.

Kingbird in Suburbia

Eastern kingbirds are common summer residents throughout the central and eastern U.S. and most of southern Canada.  Come September, they begin a long migration to South America.

Favoring open grasslands with nearby trees, these birds are often observed on prairie or farms, along broad greenbelts, in grassy areas near wetlands and at parks and nature preserves that harbor fields and meadows.  Like other kingbirds and flycatchers, they feed primarily on insects and often hunt from a conspicuous perch; berries are also consumed.  I was thus surprised to observe an eastern kingbird in our modest-sized suburban yard last evening, the first I have seen here in 23 years of owning the property.

But such is the nature of birding.  Our quarry does not always meet exceptions; one day they are absent from areas where we "know" they will be and the next they turn up where we have never seen them before (and don't expect to see them again). 

Along Hominy Creek

Those of us who reside in Columbia, Missouri, have access to a fine network of hike-bike trails that parallel major streams as they drain toward the Missouri River.  Most of these can be rather congested, especially on fair weather weekends, so, in this time of Covid-19, my wife and I headed for the Hominy Creek Trail, in northeast Columbia.  While it is used by those in adjacent neighborhoods, it is not a popular destination for most residents of the city.

Indeed, on this mild, breezy afternoon, we encountered only a handful of other walkers and bikers as we hiked along the trail.  Stately sycamores, flowering buckeyes and wild phlox adorned the creekside woodlands and the scenic landscape of an abandoned farm bordered a section of the trail.  Turkey vultures and red-tailed hawks circled overhead as we were serenaded by a host of songbirds; most vocal were northern cardinals, Carolina wrens and common yellowthroats.

Relatively un-utilized, natural escapes are especially inviting as we practice social distancing and an effort to find such preserves introduces us to new and interesting destinations.  The Hominy Creek Trail proved to be an attractive and rewarding choice. 

Just the Facts!

As Americans face the hardships and complications imposed by the coronavirus pandemic, we need regular updates from medical professionals, free from political intimidation or contradiction.  We do not need Trump's lies or politically-charged guesswork nor do we benefit from the Sycophant-in-Chief's efforts to explain what our Dear Leader really meant to say.

Neither do we need anecdotal news or entertainment intermixed with the scientific data.  Finally, news programs must be free to report on the latest scientific data without having to regularly debunk Trump's ludicrous, dangerous and ever-changing suggestions, including his latest: that we consume or inject disinfectant to kill the virus.

We need science-based facts, however distressing or hopeful they may be.  Politics, like religion, is often threatened by truth and representatives of those vocations cannot be allowed to add their voices to the pandemic updates and health policy recommendations.

First Swifts

While sitting on the back deck last evening, I observed the first chimney swifts of the season, zooming above our Columbia, Missouri, home.  Having wintered in South America, they have finally arrived on their breeding grounds where they will roost and nest in chimneys, tree cavities and other hollow structures.

Found across the eastern 2/3 of the U.S. and southern Canada, these "flying cigars" are often observed in scattered flocks over cities and towns, feasting on flying insects; come dusk, they funnel into favored roost sites and are often mistaken for bats.  On hot, humid summer days, they are one of the few species that seem undaunted by the afternoon steam bath.

A bit late to arrive this year, chimney swifts are a sign that the insect explosion of summer has begun.  Nevertheless, they are adventurous compared to the larger common nighthawks, which will not return to the Midwest before early May.

Flashback Post XVIII

Since we cannot get together on this 50th Anniversary of Earth Day, I decided to re-share my sentiments regarding its annual celebration from a post on April 22, 2008.

See:  Earth Day

Broad-winged Hawks

Broad-winged hawks are small buteos that breed across most of the Eastern U.S.; they are especially common in the Ozarks, Appalachians, Great Lakes Region and Southern Canada (as far west as British Columbia).  By late September, most head for South America and often migrate in massive flocks; smaller numbers winter in South Florida or Central America.

Throughout the year, broad-winged hawks favor forested areas near clearings or wetlands.  There they usually hunt from a perch, dropping to snare small mammals, songbirds, snakes, lizards, amphibians or large insects.  Due to their preferred habitat, they are less conspicuous than their larger cousins (e.g. red-tails, Swainson's hawks) that soar above open country.

This morning, at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, I was fortunate to observe a lone broad-winged hawk, circling northward above the floodplain of the Missouri River; he may settle nearby for the summer but was more likely headed for the Great Lakes or Canada.  In either case, it was a pleasure to witness his journey, just another sign that spring is unfolding across the Heartland.

Carpenter Bees

A male carpenter bee has been hovering about our back deck for the past week.  Though large and intimidating, he is a harmless, solitary creature, unable to sting; his role is to keep potential predators away from the nesting site.

Represented by more than 500 species across the globe, carpenter bees are named for the female's practice of tunneling into dead wood (including untreated wood on human structures) to create nest chambers for her brood; in some species, several females may share the same nest site.  Though they do not feed on the wood, they regurgitate pulp to seal each chamber after a fertilized egg is laid and nourishment has been instilled.  The process does not go unnoticed by woodpeckers, which feed on both the larvae and the adults; those bees that survive spend the warmer months feeding on nectar and pollinating a wide variety of flowering plants.  Come winter, these non-colonial insects hibernate separately in old chambers or other sheltered sites.

While carpenter bees can cause significant structural damage, I have not noted any major problem to date and am inclined to enjoy their presence and pollination services.  Females are capable of stinging but tend to avoid conflict unless directly threatened; hopefully, we won't need to pose that threat.

Spring Breaks Through

After a very sluggish start, it appears that spring has finally displaced winter in central Missouri.  The hardy magnolias have lost their blossoms and redbuds and lilacs now adorn the landscape.  Most of the summer songbirds have returned and spring migrants are passing through.  And, perhaps most inviting, we are looking forward to a warm week, with highs in the 60s and 70s F and lows well above the risk for snow or ice.

Of course, here in the Midwest, showers and thunderstorms can be expected but warm precipitation is certainly preferable to the cold rain and wintry mix of March and early April.  Toads are trilling, snakes, lizards and turtles have emerged from their winter retreats and young cottontails are dining on wildflowers that now grace the lawn.

During this difficult spring, when most of us are confined to our homes, the warm weather and increasing natural diversity are especially welcome.  One could spend a lifetime learning about the many creatures and plants in their own backyard and this is a perfect year to expand that knowledge. 

Positive Aspects of the Pandemic

One cannot overstate the human tragedy, social turmoil and economic devastation that the coronavirus pandemic has wrought across the globe.  However, there are some positive aspects for our planet and for humanity.

Fossil fuel use and extravagant consumption have been severely curtailed, at least for the foreseeable future; this should provide a temporary though all-too-brief respite from forces that threaten the health of our planet.  The global impact of the virus highlights both our interconnection and our interdependence and should, politics aside, draw us closer and encourage International cooperation.  Efforts to discover effective therapies and vaccines spur human creativity and the need to practice social distancing highlights the vital role that friends and family members play in our lives.  For now, life is far simpler and less likely to be taken for granted.

Finally, here in America, the pandemic has, once again, uncovered the ineptitude of the Trump Administration and betrayed the self-absorption of our President.  For the health of our planet and the welfare of humans across the globe, it is imperative that he be removed from office in November, if not sooner.

Calling All White-throats!

After wintering in balmy Missouri, white-throated sparrows have been singing their homesick tune for the past month.  Now, just as they are ready to return to their homeland, cold Canadian air has invaded the State behind the latest storm system, seemingly enticing them northward.

Of course, white-throated sparrows, like other migrant songbirds, relocate in response to the solar cycle.  But we humans, focused on our own calendar and governed by our large brains, imagine that the hardy sparrows may be spurred on by the cool dry air before hot, muggy conditions invade the Heartland; we also imagine that early avian insectivores, having returned from the south, resent the Canadian chill, which suppresses the activity of their prey.

In effect, we project our own feelings on our avian neighbors.  We despise chilly air in the midst of spring but welcome its arrival in the middle of a hot, humid summer.  Birds cannot be bothered by such emotional sensitivity; they are focused on survival.

A Scissor-tailed Flycatcher Returns

Arriving at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area early this morning, I observed a scissor-tailed flycatcher along the entry road, the first of the season.  This species, which appears to belong in the tropics, breeds across the south-central region of the U.S., including the southwestern quadrant of Missouri.  Though they winter in South Florida and the Tropics, they move north rather early in spring and this morning's observation was not unusual.

Scissor-tailed flycatchers summer on open farmlands and ranch lands with nearby trees.  They feed on a wide variety of flying insects but also glean others from the foliage or the ground.  Nests, built by the female, are placed on tree limbs or on man-made towers and these flycatchers are often seen on barbed-wire fencing throughout the warmer months (especially in Texas, Oklahoma and eastern Kansas).

While up to a dozen have been observed in this region of the State, I have never observed more than two at a time; nevertheless, it is always a pleasure to encounter this exotic summer resident.  Come October, he and his cohorts will begin their long migration to tropical climes.

The Fencepost Sandpiper

Another morning at Eagle Bluffs and another new bird for the season.  Today it was an upland sandpiper, foraging alone on a grass-covered levee.

On its way back from Argentina, where it spends the winter, this tall sandpiper will summer and breed on the Northern Plains of Canada and the U.S. or on open grasslands of the Great Lakes and Northeastern States; western Missouri lies within its summer range.  Unlike most of its smaller cousins, which inhabit and visit wetlands, shallow ponds, mudflats, Arctic tundra and beaches, the upland sandpiper is attracted to pastures, hayfields and prairie where it stalks a wide variety of insects, spiders and terrestrial invertebrates.  During the warmer months, it is often seen on fenceposts or power lines, surveying its territory; nests are placed on the ground, hidden within tall grass.

Usually observed in small flocks during migration, this morning's traveler was almost overlooked until it flushed from the edge of the road as I approached.  Fortunately, its size and distinctive form (short bill, small, rounded head, large eyes and long neck and legs) made identification easy. 

A Rare Western Visitor

While walking along a levee at Eagle Bluffs this afternoon, I encountered a lone eared grebe amidst throngs of American coot.  This small, slender grebe is primarily a "Western bird," breeding on freshwater lakes of the Northern Plains, Intermountain West and Great Valley of California.  Come fall, they head for Texas, Mexico, the Desert Southwest or the Pacific Coast.

Unlike horned grebes, which are usually seen alone or in pairs during migrations, eared grebes tend to migrate in large flocks and stage in massive numbers on alkaline lakes of the Great Basin each fall.  While they are classified as "uncommon migrants" in Western Missouri, today's visitor at Eagle Bluffs was considered to be rare based on eBird data.

Though my afternoon walk was an effort to get some exercise while adhering to social distancing regulations, I always bring my binoculars, knowing that unexpected sightings occur on a regular basis.  More often than not, that decision is rewarded.

Disparate Visitors

On this mild afternoon in Columbia, Missouri, two disparate visitors appeared in our backyard.  The first, a brown thrasher, posed on our wooden fence; handsome and unmistakable, this large, summer songbird tolerated my gaze for several minutes before dropping into a shrub line beyond the barrier.  He, his mate and their young will likely be observed repeatedly throughout the warmer months.

The second visitor, tiny and restless, moved through the shrubs and smaller trees, making fleeting appearances as he searched for insects,  It was a ruby-crowned kinglet, a regular but inconspicuous migrant in spring and fall.  Breeding across Alaska, Canada, northern New England and southward through the Western mountains, these energetic migrants winter across the southern U.S. and into Mexico.

Both birds were the first of their species I have observed this year and are always among the first of the summer residents and spring migrants to grace our property.  Their visits were especially appreciated this year!

The Birder's Wave

Most of the large birding hotspots are drive-through preserves.  After all, birds are best observed at close range from a blind and vehicles serve that purpose.

As a result, we birders often pass one another on the graveled roadways that wind through the refuge and it has become a common courtesy to wave to one another; that wave involves raising one's fingers (or perhaps one finger) from the steering wheel.  More than a greeting, the birder's wave is an acknowledgement that we share both the joy of birding and a commitment to conservation; those drivers that zip by without such an interaction are presumed to be present for the scenery, for other obligations or for a shortcut through the preserve.

Of course, novice birders may not be familiar with this protocol and we must be patient until more experience evokes a proper response.  Indeed, it is part and parcel of learning the craft!

Cormorants in Missouri

During a visit to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, a friend and I* encountered at least 53 double-crested cormorants, the most that I have personally observed at the refuge.  No doubt, far larger flocks have passed through in spring or fall and the current State record on eBird is 3500 at Montrose Reservoir in the western part of the State (in mid November).

Primarily migrants in Missouri, double-crested cormorants breed across the Intermountain West, Northern Plains, the Great Lakes region and both Coasts; they are permanent residents along the Pacific Coast and from the mid-Atlantic Coast to Florida.  Those that breed in the Interior head for southern Coasts in winter, including the Gulf Coast, or to major lakes and rivers of the Southeast.  Here in Missouri (per MDC), a limited number of double-crested cormorants breed along the Mississippi River and, in mild winters, some migrants may remain in the State.  Migrations through Missouri generally occur from mid March to mid April and mid October through November.

Attracted to the backwater areas of large lakes and reservoirs, these adaptable birds may become more common winter residents in Missouri as the climate warms.  Neotropic cormorants, permanent residents of South Texas, Mexico and lakes of the Desert Southwest, occasionally wander into Missouri in late summer, especially in the western part of the State; their slender build and longer tail aid identification.

* In the spirit of social distancing, we used separate pickups

A Benefit of Confinement

Confined to our Missouri home due to the Covid-19 pandemic, I will not be returning to Colorado for several weeks.  But what a great time to be "stuck" in the Midwest.

Throughout April and into early May, summer songbirds will be streaming northward; among these will be the colorful warblers, the prime quarry of veteran birders (and the most challenging species for beginners).  Small and constantly on the move, they flit from branch to branch, attempting to snare insects; identification is thus often difficult.  Fortunately, throughout most of April, the tree canopy is not fully developed and they are more easily observed in the relatively leafless trees.

While our Littleton, Colorado, farm hosts a pleasing variety of spring migrants, it cannot compete with the humid, deciduous woodlands of the Eastern U.S.  I intend to spend part of each day on our back deck, scanning the trees and shrubs for warblers and other avian travelers, a welcome diversion from my confinement; I am also getting quite good at Scrabble!

Skink Season

Following a period of warm weather, five-lined skinks are once again active on our Columbia, Missouri, property.  These common reptiles are also known as blue-tailed skinks since juveniles sport bright blue tails; adult males, on the other hand, have an orange-colored head during breeding season.

Favoring sunny areas, these skinks bask on rock walls, decks and wooden fences between sorties to feast on a wide variety of invertebrates (insects, spiders, slugs, earthworms).  Nesting begins by late April and the nest is placed on the ground in a sheltered location; the female tends to the eggs until they hatch, eating those that fail to do so.  As with other reptiles, the young are on their own once they emerge and the blue tails in this species may ward off predators (including adult male skinks).

Five-lined skinks will remain active into October, scurrying across the deck or rustling through the leaf litter to locate prey.  Predators include fox, raccoons, opossums, snakes, hawks, crows and house cats.  Come fall, they seek refuge in wood piles, hollow logs, abandoned dens and foundation cracks, among other sheltered sites.

Naturalists & Outdoorsmen

In the minds of many, if not most, individuals, the terms "naturalist" and "outdoorsman" are interchangeable.  After all, both enjoy the great outdoors, both are inspired by the grandeur of natural landscapes and both support the protection of natural ecosystems.  But, in my mind, there is a significant difference.

Outdoorsmen (and women) are represented by hunters, fishermen and those who engage in outdoor recreation (hikers, campers, off-road vehicle owners, etc.); whole industries have developed to provide the equipment that they utilize.  While they appreciate the beauty of nature, they are often focused on confronting the challenges that she imposes.

Naturalists, on the other hand, are inspired by both the extrinsic and intrinsic beauty of nature, appreciating the intricate and vital interdependence of her ecosystems and relishing the opportunity to study them in each and every environment, from their own backyard to our national and global refuges.  No doubt, there is some overlap between the groups (many naturalists camp or hike, for example) but it is the conviction that we are part of nature (not her master or adversary) that sets us apart.