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 have had two or three expert birder companions in my life who had musical talent. You could take them for a hike without binocs or anything, and they would point and identify everything they heard.
Sad to say, I lack a musical brain, and my memory for bird songs and bird calls is weak and requires constant refreshment. It's funny, but some things stick to my brain like Crazy Glue and some sorts of things do not.
If birding is one of your hobbies (birding/hiking), you know that you hear far more than you can see. It's fun to see, because you get the idea of a species' habits. But if identification matters to you, sound is easier than straining your neck to find a Vireo in the top of an oak tree.
I've considered birding without ever looking at anything. Sitting on a log, say, during Spring migration and just listening for an hour or two. I know that I would be exasperated.
Can you readily tell a Rose Breasted Grosbeak from a Robin or an Oriole? And those are easy.
He or she has been skulking around my rose bushes this week. These guys are often early migrants. The rusty tail is a good field mark for this thrushy-looking thrush.
In the Northeast, we have two non-migratory thrushes which are not thrushy-looking: The Robin and the Eastern Bluebird.
The topic came up with friends the other day. Consider the speed at which some species fly (ducks over 50 mph, for example), not to mention the speeds of diving predators.
Three species of Asian Carp have invaded the Mississippi watershed. They are destroying the native ecosystem but, like most invasive species, there is no way to get rid of them.
I did a double-take when I passed one of these guys perched on a tree beside the highway. In winter, hawks along a highway are generally always Red-Tails, so this smaller guy's rusty chest in the sunlight surprised me.
Red-Shoulders tend to be birds of the lowlands, but in migration times you can see anything anywhere.
The teams of good guys who replaced bad wood with azic and repainted our house thought it was fun to renovate one of my wren houses too during their lunch breaks (sometimes chickadees take it, though. I don't care).
We had a major migrant wave last night. Most songbirds migrate at night. This morning, flocks of cheeping and chipping White Throated Sparrows and Juncos all over the HQ.
That's my Sugar Maple today, with dumpster and porta-potty. The dumpsters keep getting smaller, which is a good sign that we are getting to the end of fix-up.
Non-breeding plumage can be confusing with birds, most especially with warblers. If you can ID fall and winter warblers, I'd term you an expert birder.
You may never have observed one of these predatory songbirds, but it's the time of year when they come down from their tundra breeding grounds for the winter.
They look a bit like Mockingbirds, but their behavior, and a good look at their plumage and beak, makes the ID clear. They are typically seen hunting from a perch or wire over open areas.
A splendid North American bird in the woodpecker clan. Very fond of eating ants, too. Noticed an influx of them in the past two weeks and learned that they are in the semi-migratory category. Their northernmost breeders move south a bit.
There are other jays in North America, but the bold and noisy Blue Jay of eastern North America is the most familiar. Like some other bird species, the Blue Jay is not so much common as it is conspicuous.
A mystery about Blue Jays is their migration. When I lived on Riverside Drive in NYC a century or two ago I watched thousands of Jays flying south in early October, all day long, through Riverside Park. I was confused by that, because Blue Jays are wintertime residents in the Northeast.
I suspect that Blue Jays, along with other species, move a bit south but within their breeding ranges (like Robins, Red-Tailed Hawks, and others). There is some evidence that yearling birds are more likely to travel.
Thus, in wintertime, New England Jays might be Quebec or Ontario breeders, or might be local breeders. Can't tell the difference.
That's what our pal Roger's wife terms them. English Sparrow, aka House Sparrow, aka Dumpster Birds, were imported from England in the early 1800s to help clean the NYC streets of horse manure and other detritus.
Their population spread rapidly.
They are not sparrows, they are a sort of european finch. Like rats, they are highly adapted to live amongst civilization, and can never be found in woods or meadows but they like working barns.
This morning, I ripped up a large loaf of stale bread and tossed it in the driveway to do my version of Loaves and Fishes, without the fish. Within 15 minutes, the MacDonalds birds arrived. Their activity attracted a bunch of Grackles (native to North America), and then a handful of hungry Red Wing Blackbirds. A few chipmunks came out for breakfast, and finally a couple of Blue Jays. A Mourning Dove stopped by to have a taste. I fed multitudes. In 2 hours, it was all cleaned up.
Photo is a female. You can see that they have a finch bill, not a sparrow's.
Men, and some women, love these activities. I do not mean lawn-mowing, I mean meadow maintenance without grazing animals on the land. Yeah, ideally you want cattle. Have you even found a pile of snake eggs beneath a cow pie? I did, once.
In New England, we have become so accustomed to the pastoral sight of meadows and fields that we forget that they are not natural. These were created out of the wilderness with tremendous effort for grazing and farming. Neglect them for 5 years, and they will be beyond repair because nature wants them to become woodland again.
At the farm, we have had meadows suitable for haying or grazing, areas that require annual brushwacking (because more brush than grasses in those areas), and steeps that need scything or something similar.
These sorts of land maintenance are deeply satisfying and, with machines, deeply relaxing with a cold beer or three. No lifting, work gets done. Somebody observed that open field maintenance is like running one's hand over the curves of one's beloved.
Haying for real hay is tricky. Timing is everything. Around here, July for commercial haying. You need the hay to go to seed, and then you need to let it dry after cut before the baler. No rain. Stored wet hay can spontaneously combust in storage, or, at least, turn moldy. You know that already.
With the dairy business moving out of New England, and horses fewer and fewer, we had no market for hay. We switched to conservation mode which is a non-economic mode.
The non-economic conservation mode for open-space maintenance is based on the idea that meadow critters (meadow-nesting birds, rodents, snakes, etc) are pretty much done by late July. However, many wildflowers are at their best in July and August and the bugs and butterflies rely on them.
We recommend mowing/brushwacking non-commercial, ungrazed meadows once per year in early September or late August. Let the mowings lie. They will mostly disintegrate by April.
If you like walking paths, keep them mowed like lawns, about 8' wide paths so you can stroll around your grounds with a coffee or whisky and ceegar without getting soaked with dew or infested with ticks while bird-watching.
We had a wet meadow in a flood plain along our trout stream (with trout pool for swimming) where the grasses and sedges grew so thick that once/year was not manageable. We had to brushwack that 5 acres patch twice/year or the machine could not handle the density of the lush growth. I was sadly aware, though, that the wetland meadow critters (Wood Turtles, Leopard Frogs, snakes, toads, etc) did not appreciate that at all and I felt bad about damaging that habitat and sometimes killing them. I wonder if it might have been left well-enough alone, but it's just what we always did.
The article begins by discussing the transformation of NYC's Fresh Kills landfill (dump) back to a sort-of natural wetland. However, the author takes the opportunity to discuss modern ecological theory.
This has been a banner year for the Eastern Chipmunk around my place and everywhere I go. I love these little buggers.
Sure, they take bites of out my tomatoes (for the water, I suspect). I don't mind much. If you have stone walls, log piles, and brushy areas, they will build their tunnels. It seems like their main enemies are house cats, Black Snakes, and weasels. Since we have no roaming house cats these days (thank goodness), our friendly little chipmunks are having a good year.
At this time of year, there are plenty of young ones too. They are innocent, do not seem careful enough about life.
A friend of mine sits on his front porch in the evening with a whisky and a cigar, and feeds them his walnuts from his hand.
American Robin House Wren Cardinal Catbird Carolina Wren Chickadee Blue Jay Tufted Titmouse Screech Owl Song Sparrow Starling Purple Grackle Mourning Dove Downy Woodpecker Catbird No oriole this year - too bad. Love to see and hear them.
Lucky for us, no cats around to kill the songbirds. If I counted a half-mile further, list would be longer.
The birds that live on Earth today have all descended from dinosaurs, the creatures who dominated the planet for a couple of hundred million years, before an asteroid impact caused their extinction. It turns out birds at the time, better called avian dinosaurs, nearly got plucked too, with only those species that lived on the ground surviving the Cretaceous-Paleogene (K-Pg) mass extinction event...
Are there any wild Brookies (aka Speckled Trout) left in their homeland of eastern, mainly northeastern, North America? I mean by that is whether there are any wild-bred Brookies left.
I expect some arguments, but my guess is that, if there are any, they are very few and very local. Brookies are sensitive and delicate fish with exacting habitat requirements. They want cool or cold, well-oygenated water. If you want to fly fish for wild Brookies, Patagonia is the place to go. The transplants there have naturalized and done well.
Interesting facts about Brook Trout (beside the fast that they are actually Char, not trout) is that they do not normally inhabit "brooks." They are river (or lake) fish which only migrate to small brooks and streams in the fall to breed. And while adult Brookies will eat anything that moves or falls into the water, their preferred foods are minnows and crustaceans rather than bugs and flies.
In the northeast, adult wild Brookies lived in large, deep streams and smaller rivers like the upper Connecticut, the Housatonic, the upper Hudson, the Androscoggin, the Penobscot, the Saco, the Merrimack, the Delaware, etc. and in lakes like Champlain, Winnipesaukee, the Rangeley Lakes, the Finger Lakes, the Adirondack lakes, and even the eastern Great Lakes. Smaller, shallower waters get too warm for trout health. In fall, as the waters cooled and waters rose, they migrated up the drainages to breed - thus "Brook" Trout. (Natural History of the Brook Trout)
Overfishing, pollution, and dams pretty much destroyed the Brookie life cycle.
The result is that trout fishermen (meaning fly-fishermen) east of the Mississippi basically rely on stocked fish for recreation (as they do in most of the US). These are raised in hatcheries and typically released in early Spring into habitat in which they are likely to survive at least for a few months until the water temperatures warm and the health of the fish deteriorates. They may have better luck in larger waters but will have no homing instincts.
Even in the famous trout "streams" in Pennsylvania, you are catching hatchery fish, usually a mix of species including the Brown (originally from Europe) and Rainbow (native to the Western US). This spring, Pennsylvania stocked 3.5 million hatchery trout of mixed varieties to keep the anglers happy.
Fishing licenses pay for those fish. Adult hatchery trout can cost between $2-4 apiece depending on fish size and volume of the order, not including delivery.
I heard one calling yesterday from a brushy thicket near a marsh. First I thought Catbird, but not really a Catbird song. Then I thought Brown Thrasher, but the habitat was wrong and the song was too harsh.
It was a Chat, and I did get a fleeting glimpse of the yellow too.
They are not uncommon but usually only found by their voice during breeding season. Found breeding all over the US especially in brushy thickets in the sun.
They are thought to be an odd form of warbler. Song and other details at All About Birds.
I have had two or three expert birder companions in my life who had musical talent. You could take them for a hike without binocs or anything, and they would point and identify everything they heard.
He or she has been skulking around my rose bushes this week. These guys are often early migrants. The rusty tail is a good field mark for 
The teams of good guys who replaced bad wood with azic and repainted our house thought it was fun to renovate one of my wren houses too during their lunch breaks (sometimes chickadees take it, though. I don't care).
We had a major migrant wave last night. Most songbirds migrate at night. This morning, flocks of cheeping and chipping White Throated Sparrows and Juncos all over the HQ.
That's my Sugar Maple today, with dumpster and porta-potty. The dumpsters keep getting smaller, which is a good sign that we are getting to the end of fix-up.
Non-breeding plumage can be confusing with birds, most especially with warblers. If you can ID fall and winter warblers, I'd term you an expert birder. 
You may never have observed one of these predatory songbirds, but it's the time of year when they come down from their tundra breeding grounds for the winter.
There are other jays in North America, but the bold and noisy Blue Jay of eastern North America is the most familiar. Like some other bird species, the Blue Jay is not so much common as it is conspicuous.
That's what our pal Roger's wife terms them. English Sparrow, aka
This has been a banner year for the 
Are there any wild 
I heard one calling yesterday from a brushy thicket near a marsh. First I thought Catbird, but not really a Catbird song. Then I thought Brown Thrasher, but the habitat was wrong and the song was too harsh.