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.
This northern chicken-like (gallinaceous) bird prefers first-growth areas, with access to water and open areas. I most often find them in aspen, birch or alder thickets, but they can be seen in piney woods, old orchards, ferny woods, and in streambeds. In regions where birch and aspen are the climax forest, they can be found everywhere or anywhere, but never in large numbers. They are most commonly encountered when they flush with a startling whirr of wings.
Once known as "fool hens" for their tameness, Ruffies have somehow learned to avoid human encounters once they have had contact with them.
These birds do not migrate, and winter very well, since they are very happy to thrive on tree buds all winter, especially protein-rich aspen and birch buds. Their numbers have been declining in the Northeast as the old farms have become either mature woods, or housing developments, but clear-cutting of mature woodlands is a great help to them, as it is to most species of wildlife (it imitates the natural effect of wildfire to regenerate forest succession, which is key to habitat diversity and thus species diversity).
The Ruffed Grouse is the noblest game bird in the US. Wary, they do not often hold to a dog's point and when they do flush, their flight assumes warp speed immediately and is unpredictable. (Gwynnie's theory is that they have a random-direction-generating gyroscope in their brains.) They have an uncanny talent for putting tree trunks between the hunter and themselves, or for flying at your face, or flying between you and you pal, whose life you may (or may not) value more highly than you value bagging a Ruffie. And even the most considerate hunters ( yes - you, Craig) will pop off a snap shot regardless of whose bird it is, and rightly so. You cannot wait with Ruffies.
Grouse hunters (a very special and scarce, and, to my mind, elite fraternity of intrepid woodsy folks who don't mind cuts, bruises, wet boots, and hours-long struggles through underbrush, raspberry patches, thorny thickets of hawthorn, and impenetrable streamside alder growths) require very quick reflexes and a high degree of "relaxed alertness", but they require, most of all, strong legs for all of the hours of difficult wilderness walking which is required to find these wonderful creatures. It is said that grouse "are killed with legs, not guns." Dogs help, a bit, but they are huntable without dogs. When a hunter finds one, they are generally very difficult to shoot such that every Ruffie is a trophy and is regarded as such. And they are also regarded as a rare gourmet treat, because, with their subtle woodsy flavor, there is no finer fowl for the table.
Why "ruffed"? The males have a dramatic black neck ruff which they display for courtship purposes, while they fan their tails and strut around like little Thanksgiving turkeys. Their courtship drumbeat from an old log is also one of their well-known features: many have heard their deep thumping from deep in the woods, and have no idea that it is just a horny male Ruffie looking for a date.
Read more about the wonderful Ruffed Grouse here. The very worthy Ruffed Grouse Society, which Maggie's Farm supports, pays for research on grouse and woodcock ecology, which benefits all woodlands and woodland creatures.
At the turn of the century, the Eastern Wild Turkey was nearly eradicated by hunting and habitat loss, and was entirely absent in the Northeast.
By the mid 1800s, the woodlands of New England had disappeared for farming, charcoal production, and lumbering.
But the woodlands have returned as farming moved west, and the wierd gobble now can be heard even in residential areas.
Thanks to dramatically successful conservation and transplantation efforts, there are now estimated to be 7 million of these huge iridescent birds, which Ben Franklin felt to be so quintessentially American that he wanted one on the US Seal. (Video of the turkey's comeback here.)
There are six species of wild turkey in the New World, and none elsewhere. (The domestic turkey is likely a descendent of the large Mexican species.) It is the Eastern which we feature here which has, in recent years, been transplanted successfully west of the Mississippi, and elsewhere.
As a sought-after game bird, the turkey's habits have been much studied. They are wary and cautious. In most areas, there is a spring and a fall hunting season for turkey, and they are pursued with bow or shotgun. It is the one game bird which it is sporting to shoot on the ground.
I have hunted them on a couple of occasions. Never managed to shoot one, though. Had a good time however, sitting at the base of a tree in camo, watching the other wild critters pass by.
Does the wild turkey taste different from a supermarket bird? Yes - the wild turkey tastes like turkey and the supermarket bird tastes like a supermarket.
The tail-fanning? That's part of the male's mating strut. The CLO page here, and the website of the worthy National Wild Turkey Federation here.
I had my first one of the season this week, creeping around a woodpile. They are a cold-weather wren, much darker than our ordinary House Wren which has pretty much migrated south by now.
Winter Wrens are are a bird of the Northeastern US and eastern Canada during breeding, most often seen in woodpiles, brush piles, and similar sorts of places. You need good eyes to see them but when they are in the mood they sing up a storm.
I'm not sure about the rest of the world, but North America has lots of warblers. They come up north in May to breed, and head back to the Caribbean, Mexico, and South America in September and October.
You really need to be an expert to identify them without their springtime migration breeding colors. They mostly look like the photo, or otherwise nondescript. All around my gardens for the past few weeks.
I know three people who have no trouble with fall warblers. I am completely incompetent. Not very good with female warblers in springtime either. Too many hobbies, and not enuf IQ either (me, not the warblers).
In Spring, they are tiny jewels to look at if you do not have a sore neck. Best places to see them in the Eastern US are Cape May NJ, Central Park in NYC (my day record there in May), and Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge (also in NYC). All Atlantic Flyway.
The North American White Ash of the eastern US is one of the majestic canopy trees of American woodlands and landscapes. It is, in fact, the wood from which baseball bats are made. It has been also used for lobster traps and electric guitar bodies.
In 2002, the Emerald Ash-Borer appeared in Michigan, and since then it has spread rapidly. I lost an 80 year-old Ash.
In North America, we have the North American River Otter. They are neither common nor rare. In the Northeat US, it has been my theory that they raise their babies on hatchery trout. Otters, like all weasels, have a high metabolic rate and are voracious.
They are not seen often, but they are around most stocked trout streams and rivers.
Around here, this was the weekend when many birds left their nests and scattered around begging their parents for food.
There is a fledgeling Catbird out my window right now in the rose bushes, asking Mom and Dad for a bug or two. We have fully-spotted Robins, still with their wide mouths, on the lawn. A bunch of tiny House Wrens in the shrubbery. A fledgeling Cardinal in a Holly tree. Four baby Barn Swallows, sitting in a line on a dead branch. Noisy baby Grackles on the lawn and fledgeling Crows cawing for food in the treetops.
And, down the lane, two fledgeling Ospreys exercising their wings on a high nest, preparing for their first adventures.
The population success of the American Bald Eagle in the lower 48 of the US (never in danger in Alaska) is an accomplishment to feel good about. It's now listed as "Least Concern."
This eagle, unlike the Osprey which ranges world-wide, is a North American sea eagle. Europe and Asia have their own sorts of sea eagles.
It's sort of amusing that the conservation successes of the Wild Turkey in the US parallel those of our sea eagle. Ben Franklin famously wanted the Turkey as the US' national symbol, but now it's just a bourbon.
My House Wrens returned yesterday. I need to quickly finish my re-painting and refurbishingof their birdhouses because it cheers me to have them around ye olde cabin.
We have two pairs nesting each year in our wren houses, and their cheery chatter is a sentimental springtime pleasure. I can hear them right now. Once they lay their eggs, they tend to go silent so as not to draw attention to their eggs and babies.
With wrens, "If you build it, they will come." They lovewren houses. They like to appropriate mailboxes too, or anything else with a hole in it. For many years when I was a kid we had them nesting happily in an old horse feedbag that hung on a nail in an open shed.
Problem with House Wrens is that the males will fill boxes in their territory with sticks to keep competitors from using them. Filthy Capitalist slime.
All members of the blackbird family have been passing through over the past month. In the Northeastern US, that mostly means Redwings, Purple Grackles, Cowbirds.
Cowbirds are famous for their foster parenting habit. Bad parents.
They like to hang out in pastures, where the animals stir up bugs to eat.
He's been away from home since the 1930s. It's encouraging to know that you can be 100 and still turn on the gals. I wonder whether he will figure out how to survive in the wild.
He is back to feeding on the sparrows at my bird feeder. Quite a sight to see him trying to swoop in low under the radar from his perch, then chasing a bird through the bushes with much thrashing around.
Most of his attacks fail, but clearly enough succeed to keep him around. I sometimes term my bird-feeder a Sharpie-feeding station. Somebody should call PETA, because if I did these sorts of things to little songbirds, I'd end up in jail.
The majestic American Chestnut, like the Elm, died off to various blights in the past century. You can still see the slowly decaying rust-colored Chestnut carcasses on woodland hikes.
The Chestnut was one of the basic trees of the northern USA climax forest, along with oak, beech, maple, walnut. Lots of good eats for wildlife.
When you buy those delicious roasted chestnuts on NYC streets, they are imported European chestnuts. A different, but related, species. I have planted a few Asian Chestnut hybrids, but man do they grow slowly. As they say, the best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago.
A handful of American Chestnuts have escaped the blight thus far. In Cape Cod.
They do not need it and they are not on food stamps, but it's fun to do. You get to see what birds are around in wintertime, and you get to try to figure out how to defeat the greedy squirrels. It adds vitality to your winter garden, same as butterfly plants do in summertime.