Maggie's Farm

I have a pal who is in the hospital, being treated for a serious case of Babesiosis. I visited him at the hospital yesterday, and determined that he would survive because I was able to elicit a few laughs - but it can be a very nasty and life-threatening disease (or a mild and insignificant one). He was on two or three IV antibiotics, and a morphine pump for the headache.

It's a bug like Malaria, and its vector is the tiny Deer Tick, same bugger as Lyme Disease. Dog ticks are annoying, but we woodsy and doggy people get those on us all the time. No big deal. Those Deer Ticks (actually, they are mouse ticks more than deer ticks) are the real problem for people who spend time outdoors.

Not to make light of a serious topic, but I can't resist re-posting "I'd Like to Check You For Ticks." It's a guy song, but the gals seem eager for Brad to check them. It must be lots of fun to be a country star:

The grand White Oak of eastern North America.

For the past 40 years, as farming has declined in the Northeast, it is not unusual to see one of these gnarly monsters among a woodland filled with younger trees. Sometimes in the midst of the stands of White Pines which often quickly fill abandoned pastures. The old White Oak is the sign that you are walking through an old cow pasture. Squint your eyes in the woods to eliminate all of the younger trees, and imagine dairy cattle chewing their cud in the shade of that old oak.

This is Frederic Church's View Near Stockbridge, MA, 1847:

I was good friends with one of these giants as a boy. Its lower branches reached almost to the ground, so that you could monkey up to 15' or 20' into the tree by going up those low limbs. Getting higher was difficult going - and slippery going from all of the moss growing on those big limbs.

New England is filled with second-growth forests, not too much climax forest yet. It's difficult to realize now, but in the late 1800s there was hardly a tree standing in rural New England other than in farmers' woodlots - and sugarbush.

My pic doesn't capture it, but this one has about a 5' diameter. We were hunting for Woodcock.

New York aristocrat Rosalie Edge was a crank, a Suffragette, and an ardent conservationist. A bio of her came out last year: Rosalie Edge, Hawk of Mercy: The Activist Who Saved Nature from the Conservationists.

Among the many causes she took up, one was protection of raptors from the mass slaughter of her era. She bought Hawk Mountain in Eastern PA and created the Hawk Mountain Sanctuary. A high point on the Eastern raptor migration flyway, Hawk Mountain had been a popular site for the slaughter of raptors by gunners who believed they were going some sort of good while having fun.

Hawk Mountain is now a foundation engaged in conservation education programs. It remains an excellent viewing spot in fall migration season. (Photo from the Hawk Mtn website.)

The right places to be in New England on a November weekend (preferably with gun and dog).

From a distance, I figured this was a flock of turkeys in an Ohio hayfield outside Mount Vernon last Saturday.

Nope. Vultures. Since I could not see any red on their heads, and because of their apparent sociable habit, they might have been Black Vultures. Or Maybe Turkey Vultures assembling around a corpse. Did not have my binoculars.

Not sure whether Black Vultures are regular in central Ohio.

I have a fatal disease in my large, probably 100 year-old Copper Beech tree. I have diagnosed it as Beech Bark Disease. I've seen the same bark disease on many old Copper Beeches recently - areas of shedding bark on the trunk and dying branches high overhead. It's a damn shame.

Maybe our most common winter sparrow in the NE, the White Throated spends most of his time on the ground and in low shrubs looking for berries, seeds and hibernating bugs. Likes bird-feeders.

He'll be coming down from the breeding grounds in Canada around now, and will give us a chance to hear his familiar pleasant songs (the link has songs).

A gallery of carnivorous plants. h/t, NRO - of all places.

The rather common American Kestrel - I still call them Sparrow Hawks - is our smallest raptor (size of an American Robin) and, when seen in the right light, our most colorful.

They are falcons, prey on insects, especially grasshoppers, small mammals, and small birds. Occasionally they can be seen in fields hunting from a hover but, more commonly, perched on the wires or branches from which they pounce.

Because of their preference for open spaces, their numbers decline where agriculture gives way to woodland. Their Eastern US population is down, probably due to the decline of farming in the Northeast.

They breed in nest holes, and move south from their northern ranges in the winter, making them "semi-migratory."

Their autumn southerly movements have been correlated with dragonfly migrations. Kestrels are happy to catch dragonflies although I don't know how it is possible. I had no idea that dragonflies migrated, but some species do - all over the world.

More about these fine birds here.

Regular readers know what a geology buff I am, although I do not post about it very much. My view is that you do not know what the heck you are looking at when you step outdoors unless you know some basic geology.

I was recently reminded about John McPhee's Annals of This Former World.

The book is a treat, but much better appreciated if you know basic Geo.

(As my friends know, my kids are all given my list of what they are required to study in college - or as AP high school courses - if I am to pay for their education. Intro Geology is on my list. Maybe I should post my Dad's Required Courses one of these days. It might stimulate some fun discussion here. Being a Yankee, I am cheap and hate to waste money on transient nonsense du jour. One reason I love Columbia and the U of Chicago is because they dare have an opinion about what kids need to know from the wisdom of past generations.)

Falconers have mini-cameras mounted on Peregrine Falcons in their wide-open habitats, and on Goshawks in their woodland habitats. h/t Never yet melted

No idea where this was. (thanks, Buddy). We photographed a scene like this (but without the bird-feeding) driving down from Whistler to Vancouver some winters ago. Awesome. Even the non-birders in our skiing group were impressed. 

The eagles were like gulls. These greedy fish-eaters have no idea that they are symbols.

Another pic below the fold

Some form of cutlivation of the Eastern (or American) Oyster has been going on for 150 years on Cape Cod, especially in Wellfleet. At first, this just consisted of importing wild oysters from elsewhere in their Atlantic or Gulf coast range, and giving them a while to absorb that special Wellfleet flavor.

There is no way that one small harbor could support the nationwide demand for naturally-produced Wellfleet Oysters.

As we sat on the deck watched the oystermen at work on their cages at low tide, we wondered where they buy the baby oysters.

I found out how the whole system works (link has great photos). The laboratory-bred spat from the hatcheries are bought by nurseries, then they are sold to the watermen who do the "grow-out" of the seed oysters. It is quite remarkable. No wonder they aren't cheap.

Photo on top: large scale commercial oyster grow-out in the southern US
Photo on bottom: oystermen tending their oyster cages in Wellfleet at low tide. Production is limited by town regulations, so there is no industrial-scale production and all are beach-bottom cultured instead of being grown on rafts, slowing their growth but making them tastier.

Just kidding. We would never post a "Name This Bird" this easy to answer. Among many interesting and enjoyable experiences this past weekend was getting this close to a Red Tail who was hunting the marsh edges at the Mass. Audubon in South Wellfleet. Pocket camera, no telephoto:

Great tool for the places wheere you cannot take a tractor. It's the 17 HP, and it will shred a 2" sapling with ease. Here's the DR site.

Can you name year and make of the truck?

Ten years ago we sat with a good pal, now deceased, and his wife on the porch of his golf club, sipping after-dinner single malts and smoking Cubans. And watching the Hummingbird Moths who were all over the solid planting of pink Cleome below the porch.

One of those magical moments. There are other reasons to plant annuals like Cleome, but those moths at dusk are the best reason. Here's a pic of one from Gardener's Index hovering over a Cleome:

Finally, somebody remembered to give me this book for my birthday.

Just need to finish reading my Baroque book first.

Does it seem to you that they keep making books with smaller and smaller print these days...?

...I'd buy this W. 12th St. townhouse as a pied a terre. I'd let all my millions of best friends use it, too, when they visited NYC. There would be a maid and a cook who lived on the top floor, and three reserved parking spots at the garage down the street.

All day long I'd biddy biddy bum...

With the lousy economy, and the closing of so many Wall St. firms, prices are coming down a bit, but such places remain pricey from my humble standpoint. They are asking $29 million for this typical and rather ordinary one (see photos at link). I guess lots of people want to have places in Manhattan these days.

People who are not familiar with 19th century NY townhouses do not know that they all have pleasant little gardens in the back. Lots of landcaping businesses in NY specialize in townhouse mini-gardens. Little fountains, mini-patios, quiet lighting, pots, plants that like the city, etc. I once knew somebody whose Mom kept her pet tortoise in her NY garden for many years. Animal probably outlived her. It fed on bugs, worms, weeds and grass in the garden, and vegetables left-over from Chinese take-out. Crunched up those skinny dried hot peppers without batting an eye. It lived in the kitchen in the winter.

I think it was a Greek Tortoise (Testudo graeca) that she snuck home in her luggage from a trip to Corfu in the late 1950s. Gerald Durrell, brother of  Lawrence Durrell, loved those tortoises when he summered in the Greek islands. Those animals can live well over 60 years. They become precious living heirlooms, like parrots.

Photo of T. graeca in its natural spartan habitat:

The smallest North American turtle lives in similar habitats to those of the Spotted Turtle (one of my favorite reptiles), and is a relative of the wonderful Wood Turtle. Nowadays, they have changed the official name to Bog Turtle.

(When I was young, I located a colony of Spotted Turtles in a sedgy marsh on the edge of a stream. On a sunny day, they'd be basking on the little tussocks, and splash into the shallow water when you walked by -not walked, actually - hopped from tussock to tussock in one's Keds. Spotted Turtles are listed as endangered too, now. Like Muhlenberg's, Spotteds seem to live in small colonies in specialized habitats which are senstive to human - and dog - intrusions.)

The Bog Turtle likes marshes with wet sedgy meadows in limestone areas. Despite their name, they do not live in acidic Sphagnum Bogs. They are rarely seen because they like to burrow in muck, but they are probably endangered. I have never seen one in the wild, even though our beaver marsh overflow is probably perfect habitat for them with its grassy hummocks, rivulets, beaver channels, damp meadows - and all of our Berkshire limestone and marble ledges and bedrock.

If you have ever encountered one, tell us.

The range of these turtles is dispersed:

Muhlenberg's Turtle was named after amateur botanist and sedge expert Gotthilf Henry Ernst Muhlenberg - an interesting character who played a role in the Revolution. Muhlenberg College in PA was named after his dad.

I was working yesterday, so Mrs. BD visited a friend on the shore to do some kayaking (that was before she came home to do her weeding).

She reported that the sky was filled with Ospreys, and young ones were perched in the trees on the little islands, screaming for more sushi.

Her friend told her that there are now 19 pairs of Ospreys breeding in the immediate area. 20 years ago, none. That is a remarkable conservation achievement. 30 years ago, they were rare in the Northeast although they were never rare in Florida.

I love to watch them fishing, hovering then diving with their talons forward, and then struggling to free themselves from the pull of the water. The young ones seem to learn how to do it, but it's a wonder they don't all drown.

The Osprey has worldwide distribution. A summary of the magnificent Osprey here.

A re-post from a couple of summers ago -

Two young Carolina Wrens fecklessly fluttered into our den today while the door was open. The pup promptly swallowed one, as any half-trained retriever will do, but I gently grabbed the other and carried him out to a safe branch. He crapped in my hand, but I don't mind that at all. Glad to be of service. I will take it as a frightened "Thanks," like when God grips you.

Birds frequently fly into our house. A couple of years ago, two dumb young flickers flew down the dining room chimney, and their beaks are sharp. They were tough to catch with the 11' ceiling. But I will never forget my friend who found a befuddled Screech Owl perched on an andiron in his fireplace. He called me and asked what to do. I said grab him firmly but gently around his wings, and open your hand outdoors. It worked out fine, but the bird was confused a little by the sunlight and took a magical minute or so to compose himself perching on his hand, reorient himself, and then to fly into a dark, dense pine.

Our Carolina Wrens are noisy in spring (a piercing "teakettle teakettle teakettle"), invisible during their breeding season, and out and about again now. I thought they were migratory, but I had one at my feeder last winter, and apparently they are not, entirely. Harsh winters kill them off, but their populations bounce back.

They look twice the size of our happy House Wrens, and are noisier. Rugged little guys.

Saw many of these in bloom on Cape Cod, growing in sandy dry soil. Seems to be a succulent variant of some wildflower. (I do not know what they are, but I know they are not Joe Pye Weed.)