We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I saw a pair of them in my tall oak tree this morning, and I suspect that they are weaving one of their remarkable hanging nests in it again this year, as they did last year.
These exotically-colored Eastern songbirds are never common, but are regularly seen - but only if you look up into the tree-tops. One odd fact about these orioles is that they like to eat oranges. Some people put orange halves out to attract them.
Image: This male is a bit on the yellow side, more like a female. Most of the males we see in New England are more flame-orange. The Orchard Oriole seems unusual in New England and is smaller, darker, and tends to nest near water in the South and Midwest.
May is bird migration season up here in New England. That Sound ID called Merlin has changed my life. It is 90+ percent accurate, and even labels a Mockingbird's song imitations as Mockingbird.
Sure, I can ID most local warblers and vireos if I get a good look, but usually you don't feel like straining your neck for hours. One trick an older guy I know used to use is to lie on the ground under a big old oak tree with mini-binoculars (the kind we use for opera).
Below the fold, some of what Merlin heard with me early this morning near the shore (most confirmed with eyes too, or just seen). Gotta get out early for some of this:
It's early Springtime in New England. The male Robins are singing their territorial announcements in the morning, and the Song Sparrows are too. The world outdoors is waking up and feeling the hormones.
Interesting to me has been seeing Chickadees munching on the emerging rosebuds. Never seen that before.
New England is enjoying a gentle and lovely Nor'easter today. Breezy and snowy, but not violent at all and it does not really qualify as a "storm." It's weather, not "bad weather."
Why, one might ask, are cyclones travelling to the northeast named after winds coming from the northeast? Well, it's because the winds in the cyclone blowing up from the southeest are usually offshore as the storm, as these typically do, travels up the coast. Image below from this site.
Offshore, therefore, the winds are more likely to be from the southwest - wet winds. However, a Sou'wester is any southwest wind. The big cyclonic storm are still called Nor'easters, as in Perfect Storm. Here's a real Sou'wester (the hat):
The migrating male Redwings arrived today. I was looking for a Rusty Blackbird, but didn't see one.
I did not attend this late-January birding trip, but it seems to have been good fun. Never hurts to have experts along. They went to three or 4 spots, including Cape May. Separate lists for each location.
I don't really keep lists anymore, unless I have a specific reason to.
They are not rare across the entire US, but can be difficult to distinquish from their Sharp-Shinned Hawk relatives. Often impossible, so people like me just call them "Accipter sp.". In the US, there are 3 accipter species, all bird-hunters. The noble Goshawk, beloved of falconers, is the king. Rarely seen.
The song of the Wood Thrush came through my window Friday morning. A migrant, I think. It is a fine, musical spring sound which connects me with every spring I have lived through.
The Wood Thrush inhabits the dark Eastern forests of mature hardwoods and hemlocks, and is far more often heard than seen. His song is often described as a flute-like yodel, and indeed it is one of the haunting sounds from the woodlands. He forages near the ground for bugs, worms, and berries.
They do breed in the woodlands of the Farm but right now most of them are headed north. The great songbird (and warbler) migration to breeding grounds.
This member of the large family of Thrushes, which includes the American Robin, is heavily parasitized by Cowbirds, the Welfare Queens of the bird world.
Hear his remarkable song, and read more about him, here. If you do not really know birds, make sure you listen to the song on the site - if you spend any time outside, you will recognize that tune.
I've seen Manta Rays (a variant of Mobulas) leaping while swimming in Bermuda. They get together, presumably for mating. Their leaping is a show of prowess.
January is a good time for listening for owls. If they are active enough, you can see them in daytime too.
By coincidence, two friends sent me pics of Barred Owls last week. They are not rare. I've watched a pair for years using an old crow's nest in a Hemlock grove in Massachusetts.
Our readers know that the Honeybee is a non-native bee in North America. It was imported from Europe for agricultural purposes, mainly honey production. However, because they live in large hives, they have become industrial-scale assets for agriculture.
None of our native bees produce honey. There are 4000 native bee species in North America.
The Aug-Oct migration of the eastern Monarch butterflies from the US and Canada to one small area in central Mexico is, to my mind, more remarkable than the march of those cute penguins in Antarctica. (Those west of the Rockies fly to southern California.) As they pass through New England, I see them fattening up on my buddleias (photo yesterday), but they have been around the milkweed in the meadows all summer. And that's why birds never eat them - they ingest a nasty flavor from the milkweed and birds won't touch 'em.
Females of many species of Orb-Weaving Spiders (common in gardens) consume their mates following a romp in the web.
Same thing goes for many species of Fireflies. I am seeing lots of them in the morning darkness. Delightful beetles doing their courtship dance in the moonlight.
Most of their life cycle is spent under water. It's fun to put a net into the shore of a pond to discover how many critters live in the mud and rotting leaves. Tadpoles, pollywogs, baby fish, and all sorts of larvae. Maybe even a 2" baby Snapping Turtle.
Like most other bugs, their "adult" reproductive phases are usually brief - a week or two. However, their time as eggs, larvae (in this case, caterpillars), and pupae varies depending on species and climate.
Some even migrate (eg Monarchs) and some, like Mourning Cloaks, (photo) hibernate, which is why you sometimes see them fully-fledged on the first warm days of Spring. Tough buggers, live on tree sap.
The old inner harbor, Wellfleet, now silted up but once filled with tall ships, coastal schooners, and fishing vessels. The railroad dike - and the railroad itself -ended all that in the later 1800s. Congo Church steeple in distance.
I usually find turtle eggshells around these marshes. Diamondback Terrapin eggshells dug up by skunks and raccoons. This is the northernmost limit of their range. Rarely seen, wary, but they are around. Wonderful critters of the salt- and brackish marshes. They enjoy the edges of the spartina. Plenty of food for them. Problem is that they lay their eggs on the beaches. Despite predators of their eggs (fox, skunks) and of their babies (egrets), their species seems to survive.
Cape Cod may have had a little bit of topsoil long ago, but now the Outer Cape (aka the Lower Cape - north of Chatham) is pretty much all sand (which is why the Indians needed to throw a herring into each hill of corn), and the dominant tree is the Pitch Pine. Where it's subject to wind, it doesn't get much higher than a 6' scrub form.
Here's the path to our not-too-secret wild Blackberry patch, where it's not unusual to see a cheerful Eastern Box Turtle, to hear Bob Whites calling during the day, and Whip-Poor-Wills calling in the evening. Shrubs on front left, Beach Plum. Tree on right, Black Oak. Trees in background, Pitch Pine.
The basic outer Cape upland habitat is now Pitch Pine with an understory of Scrub Oak, with scatterings of Black Oak and feral Black Locust, with grasses below. In sunny spots, Bayberry, Blackberry, Poison Ivy, and Beach Plum. An occasional patch of wild blueberry filled with greedy Robins and Catbirds. This is officially known as Pitch Pine/Scrub Oak Barrens, but, for me, it's heaven. I hope that heaven, if I get there (doubtful) smells like hot sand, Pitch Pine, and Bayberry. The ground cover in the photo below is the dwarf shrub Common Bearberry with its small red berries in August. This was a foggy early morning:
Poison Ivy is a native vine to North America. Apparently humans are the creatures for whom it is an annoying weed. Animals seem to like it.
When your dog runs through a patch, be careful about hugging your dog.
I've had plenty of unpleasant experiences of it in my life. Now I know that Dawn detergent after contact is a miracle. Sometimes it is difficult to avoid.