Maggie's Farm

During the past couple of months, I have noticed our bunny rabbit (Cottontail Rabbit) population taking a sharp decline.

Then we saw the fox. They must have moved in recently.

The diminutive Red Fox is the most widely distributed predator in the world, from Asia through Europe and North America. (Yes, he is a Fox and she is a Vixen.)

While our American Red Fox is likely a descendent of foxes imported from England for hunting, there was a pre-existing Red Fox here which inhabited boreal regions of North America.

In the US, they are hunted with horses and hounds, but I don't know anyone who shoots them for fun. In the UK, our cousin Mr. Free Market loves to blast them, but he is a deeply disturbed individual (like all Capitalist gun-lovers), and he also tries to protect his pheasants.

I tend to feel happy when I see one, which is not often, at dawn, trotting across a meadow. I think I have liked them since Roger and the Fox was a favorite of mine around age 6. They are increasingly semi-suburban, but are basically a rural animal.

These nocturnal handsome bushy-tailed guys are mainly mouse, fruit, and bug-eaters, but they have been known to steal a chicken or young pheasant. Both coyotes and wolves will kill foxes.

A bit about their range and natural history here.  More here.

A flock of Brant ("Brent" in the UK) over Long Island Sound this weekend. Thanks, reader.

Well-preserved Jurassic turtles found on Skye. They call it a missing link between land and aquatic turtles.

Today, we still have many species that do a little of both, like North America's wonderful Wood Turtle, which swims and hikes.

North America's Eastern Grey Squirrel is one adaptable critter. Here, in their native territory, I am happy to have them around - and so are the Red-tail hawks that eat them and keep their numbers down.

I think it's been a long time since American kids went out with their .22s to get a mess o' savory squirrel in the oak trees for the family stew-pot.

Like everybody else around here, my main problem with these crafty acrobats is that they eat me out of house and home on my bird-feeders. (Plus, these sneaky little terrorists almost blew me up when they chewed through the hose of my grill's propane tank.)

The ongoing war of brains continues at Maggie's Farm and, thus far, the Grey Squirrel still wins.

Here's some advice on Squirrel-proof bird feeders.

Wki has a good summary on the Eastern Grey Squirrel. Here, we have the black version too, but not many.

The wary American Black Duck of the Eastern US and Canada is prized by hunters, and there is no binocular birder either who is not happy to see them. Sadly, their numbers in the Northeast have been dropping while the population of their close relative the Mallard (with whom they commonly hydridize) have been rising.

Unlike most dabbling ducks, Blacks are happy breeding on either freshwater ponds and marshes or in salt marshes. Some studies in recent years indicate a significant reliance on beaver marshes for breeding habitat.

You can read about the American Black Duck here.

Photo from that site.

The next big rain will knock the remaining autumn leaves down. Here's where we are today:

Dead of cancer at 65. Obit here. An MD, a storyteller, a TV producer, and a scientist, he's been one of our favorite folks. I repost this well-known talk by Crichton on the complexity of nature from 2005 for the benefit of readers who might have missed it. Damn interesting, especially with respect to the effects of human intervention. (The text of his talk, with images, is here.)

Canada Goose Infestation

Some parts of the US would love to have the problems we have in the Northeast: White-Tailed Deer and Goose infestations. (We now have tons of Wild Turkey too, but I would never term that an "infestation."  These splendid birds are a blessing.)

Trouble is, we have to bow the deer in many populated areas, and these non-migratory Canadas that we have in abundance tend to hang out where you cannot hunt, like town parks and golf courses. It's a damn shame, because they are big, and the breast, marinated then sauteed or grilled rare and thin-sliced, is as good as filet mignon, in my opinion - if not as tender. Our White-Tail deer are bigger than the southern version, or the Texas version, but with smaller racks. Who cares? Excellent dining. Our deer hunters tend to be meat hunters and, where I live, there is no limit on does. When I was a lad, both goose and deer were uncommon sights in New England: these are the kinds of problem you want to have.

Photo: Our pal Yankee retrieving a goose in Manitoba, this October

Latest USFWS report on Canada Goose, below:

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Releases Final Environmental Impact Statement on Resident Canada Geese Management
Contact: Nicholas Throckmorton 202-208-5636  (Bold Ours)
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service today announced the release of a final Environmental Impact Statement (FEIS) that outlines various alternatives to reduce, manage, and control resident Canada goose populations and reduce related damages. Of the alternatives, the Service’s proposed action will allow state wildlife agencies, landowners, and airports more flexibility in controlling resident Canada goose populations.The Service took this action in response to widespread concern about overabundant populations of resident Canada geese, which can damage property, agriculture, and natural resources in parks and other open areas near water.

"Resident Canada geese populations have increased dramatically over the past 15 years," said Service Director H. Dale Hall. "These high population levels have been shown to cause problems for natural and economic resources, and we believe increased local management with national oversight is the best approach to reduce conflicts and bring the population under control. Through this approach, the Service will continue working to expand and protect hunting opportunity while providing airports, private landowners, and State and local officials the tools they need to address resident Canada goose issues."

Couldn't resist stealing this from Theo -

They say that our Flicker numbers are decreasing, but we have tons of them around here. A couple of years ago, we had two young dumb ones decided to plunge down our chimney, and it was tough catching them and putting them outside. Sharp beaks.

I heard one calling this morning. "Flicka flicka flicka." They migrate, unlike most woodpeckers, but these guys do more pecking in the earth than they do in trees. They love to eat ants, and suburbia doesn't seem to bother them.

You can read more about these birds here.

It's been a terrible year for butterflies in Yankeeland, and I have never seen so few Monarchs migrating through our gardens. (I blame global cooling.)

But I did see a stunning and feisty Orange Sulphur on my woodpile this morning. It's their flight season. This one had wide black margins like the one in the photo, but their coloration is variable.

It looked like an orange autumn Maple leaf, taking flight.

Some family and friends climbed Mt. Willey on Sunday. They popped a bottle of champagne on the foggy top. Here's one of their photos from a viewpoint, part way up:

I took this close-up of a clump of Indian Pipe (aka Corpse Plant) at the farm this weekend, in the Hemlock woods on the hillside. A fungus? Nope. It's a parasitic plant.

A reader sent in this photo of an Eastern American Toad (Bufo Americanus) in the garden this past weekend. Everybody enjoys stumbling upon these goofy critters, which tend to be active at night (when the sun will not dry them out) or during rain. If find it remarkable how often they can be found far from any pools or ponds in which to breed. They travel.

I remember rainy days in Cape Cod when the baby toads had completed their magical transformation from tadpole to tiny (1/2") toads in August in such numbers that you could hardly find a place to put your foot, like Red Efts on cloudy days in the Berkshires.

The only thing I know that likes to eat them is the Hognose Snake, and I've never seen one of them.

Scientificalistical experts have proven (the debate is over) that if you touch a toad, you will get warts, but if you are a girl, and kiss one, it will turn into a Handsome Prince (but you will get warts all over your face).

We have tons of Eastern Toads here. Like all critters, it cheers me to see them.

From Bowyer's Teddy Roosevelt vs. the Noisy Environmentalists at TCS, one quote:

TR and his Director of Forestry Services, Gifford Pinchot created a system of 'wildlife Reserves'. They argued that it would not be fair for one generation to do all the logging and all the digging and to leave nothing behind for future generations. They didn't think of these reserves as something pristine, which would be rendered somehow ceremonially unclean by the signs of human development. They just wanted to share natural resources and beauty with future generations, like ours. In fact the shift in language from 'resources' to 'the environment' signals the shift in world-view from conservation to preservation. A resource, by its very nature, is to be used, sparingly, perhaps, but nonetheless, used.

This is why the Roosevelt-Pinchot philosophy is known to historians as the 'wise-use' movement. It's why the administration's forestry handbook contained explicit instructions for how to extract lumber and minerals from the protected lands. That's why the memorial lauds 'development', which contemporary environmentalists forbid in places like ANWR.

The preservationists of the time, like Sierra Club founder, John Muir, fought against them. While Roosevelt/Pinchot sought to make nature useful to humanity, by opening it to efficient use, and protecting it from destruction, Muir claimed that nature was to be useful to nature itself, not to man. For Roosevelt earth is for us, for people. For Muir man and land were equals. It wasn't the conservationist Roosevelt who put ANWR's oil out of our reach, but the environmentalist Carter.

Shucks, that is cute as hell. Hunter though I may be, I would never shoot one of these splendid animals. Deer? No problema.

And I love Alison Krauss too. (h/t, Theo)

With all of our posts about our beloved Cape Cod recently, our readers deserve a decent map to see what we are talking about. You can see that Wellfleet has ocean, harbor, and bay beaches - and plenty of wonderful ponds too. All with entirely different characters. Pop quiz on the map later.

The green is JFK's Cape Cod National Seashore. Best thing (and one of the few things) he ever did. What would this Wellfleet road look like this if he hadn't protected it from development? It's not "barren" - it's lovely.

I have a watercolor of that island, now part of the Cape Cod National Seashore, over our dining room fireplace. A family of Great Horned Owls lives out there. I have seen them. Plenty of squirrels, bunny rabbits, and crows for them to eat (yes, owls like to pick off roosting crows at night - an easy meal if you don't mind eating crow).

A re-post:

Both the majestic American Elm and the Chestnut fell victim to blights imported from overseas. With their deaths, the New England landscape was altered, for the worse. No more village blacksmith "under the spreading chestnut tree," and no more village greens and churches graced by rows of giant vase-shaped Elms - the hallmark of old New England.

Yes, we still have some elms, but the young ones don't make it to adulthood, and any remaining trees are slowly dying off.

The good news is that there is a blight-resistant Elm available. You won't live long enough to see it in its glory, but planting some now in the right places will be a heck of a fine gift to the future.

You can find them at Miller Nurseries.

A quote from the piece in Smithsonian Magazine of the above title:

As a young man, Muir felt he was a student in what he called the ‘University of the Wilderness,'" Gisel said. "Yosemite was his graduate course. This is where he decided who he was, what he wanted to say and how he was going to say it."

When he first strode into Yosemite in the spring of 1868, Muir was a scruffy Midwestern vagabond wandering the wilderness fringes of post-bellum America, taking odd jobs where he could. In retrospect, visiting Yosemite might seem an inevitable stop on his life's journey. But his later recollections reveal a young man plagued with self-doubt and uncertainty, often lonely and confused about the future. "I was tormented with soul hunger," he wrote of his meandering youth. "I was on the world. But was I in it?"