This winter has seen a drop in the normal activity around our bird feeder. Juncos, chickadees, nuthatches and the like have been infrequent visitors. That's not surprising -- the mild winter has afforded them ample feeding opportunities afield. Despite the food abundance in the wild, the cardinals have shown up with regularity.
The sharp-shinned hawk, pictured above, must be enjoying the winter weather, as small birds make up a good part of its diet. I've seen that intense stare at close range once before. My first encounter with a "sharpie" took place while I sat in a tree stand. That autumn afternoon it flew in for a brief stop, perching a few feet away -- I assumed it was attracted to the turkey quill fletching on my arrows.
The cardinal's coloration causes it stand out even on a dismal day or in a forest interior. Though pleasing to the eye, with bird-eating raptors in the vicinity it's akin to placing a target on its back.
The sharp shinned hawk's long legs, short rounded wings and very long tail all come in handy for coursing through the woodlands at high speed in pursuit of its prey.
This cardinal has so far managed to stay off the sharpie's menu. Around our home, at the first sign of trouble small birds fly into a spiraea hedge or thick grapevines in an adjacent woodlot.
While they are built for winged pursuit, the sharp-shinned hawk will also pounce on its quarry from a low perch, notably small mammals such as mice and voles. That may have been what he was up to before I arrived. In the above photo, he's unfolding his wings and a second later he was airborne, flying deeper into the woods.
Somewhat silhouetted by the sun, these phragmite plumes stand out nicely against the blue winter sky, creating a scene hardly resembling early February.
To my memory, I don't recall seeing as much waterfowl activity in our area as evidenced this winter. With no snow cover, waterfowl have been able to glean the grain fields, and local waters have iced over only occassionally but never for very long.
This scene is more reminiscent of April -- and trout season.
This snowfall was picturesque and like the others it didn't last long.
Here dining on sumac, wintering songbirds haven't had trouble finding food this season. While sumac is a normal part of their winter diet.......
it seems they don't care much for sumac sno-cones.
By Sunday morning these waterfowl could find themselves evicted. Predicted low temps for Friday and Saturday show single digits and this mantle of ice could envelop the entire marsh.
It's been a nice run but we're certainly not out of the woods yet. Over the course of the next few weeks will we see more blue sky with just an occasional bite from Old Man Winter......
or will we one morning wake up to a setting such as this?
In any other year this chipmunk would have long since retired to its winter sleeping quarters. But with the unseasonal temps, all the leaves down and a lone apple beckoning, this little fella ventured into the upper reaches of our tree for an early winter treat.
As I've mentioned in previous posts, we've had numerous visitors eat the apples -- squirrels, cottontails, woodchucks and a variety of birds. But this is the first we've noticed a chipmunk sampling the fruit.
While he appeared a bit tentative at first, eventually he dove in with gusto.
Oops -- nearly forgot to say a blessing...........................................................
Amid the honking of geese and the feeder chuckle of hungry mallards, a dozen tundra swans were clustered together on the low ground of the massive grain field. Unlike the ducks and geese, the swans were silent, content to rest, preen and forage in the murky field runoff.
Given a choice, I would have preferred to capture the swans flying in formation against a backdrop of blue sky. Unfortunately the sky was overcast and the swans were already on the ground. Beggars can't be choosers.
Normally I would have been happy to hunker down and watch the ducks and geese. Myriad waterfowl were dropping out of the sky nearly nonstop to feed in 80 acres of recently cut corn. There's something graceful in the method ducks and geese employ on their descent, the symmetry in their cupped wings, tipping slightly one way then the other while zeroing in on a potential feast -- especially when arriving in such large numbers.
On this day it was the swans which had piqued my interest and while I considered the opportunity a sheer bonus, I had no way of knowing the situation would soon take an interesting turn, courtesy of one furry predator.
I had been watching this pair of swooners for several minutes when off in the distance I noticed an orange blur of movement moving rapidly along the ground. It was a red fox, slinking its way through the cut corn, moving in for what appeared to be an easy meal among the hundreds of waterfowl ... all the fox had to do was select a target.
Naturally, I figured one or more of the feathered critters would sound the alarm, thus causing a mass exodus of both ducks and geese. I readied the camera, hoping to get a photo of the southeast horizon as it turned black with hundreds of panicked waterfowl. But things didn't turn out exactly as I expected.
The fox alternately skulked and scurried through the cut corn, paying no mind to the ducks and geese. The geese, in turn, paid no mind to the red fox slipping through their midst. In fact, there wasn't the slightest sense of urgency, no rise in the crescendo of their two-tone honking as is usually the case in times of apparent danger. Instead the geese merely raised their heads to keep an eye on the intruder.
Not as confident as the geese, the ducks took wing and circled the field several times before alighting farther away.
With geese on every side, the fox crept forward. He appeared to be focused solely on the swans. I couldn't help but wonder what caused this obviously healthy and robust-looking red fox to pass up an easy meal. Was it curiosity?
After all, tundra swans do pass through, but they are not something we (or a red fox) see every day. On the other hand, when confronted, a lone goose can and will give a good account of itself, inflicting damage with its wings. And the fox was certainly outnumbered. Maybe he thought the guys in white were easy!
The fox came to a stop at the water's edge. There he simply stared at his intended quarry, sizing them up for several moments. Either he didn't want to get his feet wet or he realized the swans were considerably larger than the geese -- and perhaps more formidable.
Eventually the fox left and judging from its exit, it either winded me or spotted me. It turned tail and fled, darting through the corn the same way it came, putting to flight two or three geese that happened to be in its path. By that time on a dead run, the fox still paid no mind to the honkers, instead high-tailing it toward the distant woodlot from whence it came.
To date, this has been an awesome month weather-wise. Come November, any morning you don't have to scrape, shovel or shiver is sheer bonus. So, rather than sit in a tree stand, I thought I'd cruise rural roads like the one pictured above.
Any day now, this field of standing corn.......
will look a lot like this one.
This scene looks like it might have come right out the Andrew Wyeth gallery.
Took this photo between passes of the combine.
The maples to the rear of this country cemetery seemed colorful and quite picturesque from this vantage point........
But from this angle their framework lends a somewhat stately appearance.
This guy is keeping a watchful eye on a roadside carcass....but he's not alone.
His friends are equally interested in a meal. Like evryone else, these vultures must be enjoying the pleasant November weather, but for how long remains to be seen. By the time the snow shovels come out, they'll be perched in warmer climes!
Well known for its spectacular autumn scenery, Letchworth State Park sees a good number of visitors this time of year. And while many sightseers flock to the High Falls, Lower Falls and Great Bend overlook, all noted scenic attractions, there are several smaller, lesser known falls and cascades, all equally picturesque.
I spent a fair amount of time at the park in the mid to late '90s, but always down on the river. That said, I never noticed settings such as the one pictured above.
A forrested section of the gorge
A nice steady flow, pleasing to the eye
This setting conjured an image of a dish of broccoli sprinkled with Trix!
Come late March and into April, with the spring runoff, the water must be roaring over this place.
Great Bend. I was a fortunate to be able to raft and kayak the Genesee River through the gorge back in the day -- it gives one a totally different view.
lf the water wasn't so cold I would like to have rolled up my pants and hunted for crayfish and salamanders.
For fall color, maples are among my favorite - especially when they're deep red.
I used my zoom to the max to capture this hawk high above the gorge. While I had to make several stops to get these photos, all he had to do was glide on the thermals.
This is a view of the Moose River as seen from the Route 28 bridge in McKeever, NY. Bill Moon and I arrived in Old Forge on a Thursday to do a bit of sightseeing and picture taking before canoeing the north branch of the Moose the following day.
We drove further north to Inlet where Bill had bow hunted in the past. Old logging roads offered access well off the beaten path, with numerous campsites along the way. Here the late afternoon sun illumines towering spruce trees.
Dead timber, colorful maples and spruce frame the shoreline of a placid pond.
A totally calm surface on Nick's Lake provides a mirror image along the shoreline.
These canoes no doubt saw a good deal of use this year, but on this day not a soul around.
Winterberry -- we would see plenty of this stuff growing along the north branch of the Moose River. There we would find it in huge clusters and already minus much of its leafy growth. Stay tuned -- the canoe trip was quite breathtaking.
We hadn't traveled very far when, from the stern of the canoe, I heard Bill Moon say, "Listen to that." Except for the sound of his voice, there was absolute silence. He was referring to the solitude of the Adirondack wilderness. At the time we were paddling the north branch of the Moose River where it winds through brushy banks lined with winterberry and distant hills in the background
Downstream a ways, we would enter green corridors of spruce and pine, and finally stretches of river where the evergreens and maples mingle, splattering a predominantly green shoreline with red and yellow.
"Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty. It expands through successive stages of the beautiul to values as yet uncaptured by language."
Aldo Leopold, "A Sand County Almanac"
With the hardwoods already having lost much of their foliage, the evergreens had lost a bit of their backdrop...
yet they towered above the river bank, as aesthetically pleasing as ever.
Except for small birds flitting and rustling in the winterberry, these mallards provided one of our few glimpses of wildlife. Occasionally, the sound of geese could be heard, though they were nowhere in sight. Once or twice we heard the guttural squawk of a raven - it too was heard and not seen.
The day was sun-filled and warm, the setting serene. The leaning sycamore pictured above seems to be whispering to the trees on the opposite bank.
Clusters of winterberry
The sound of water rushing over rocks and around and under sizeable boulders indicated it was time for our lone portage of the trip, a canoe-tote of approximately 200 yards. The portage trail was well-defined, though there were numerous tree roots spanning the path which tested our agility -- and patience.
Bill has made this trip a number of times - here's "ol' man river" and his understudy!
The woodchuck in the above photo appears to be looking for greens to eat. During the late spring and summer he feasts on selective grasses and clover, not to mention choice morsels from our flowerbeds -- petunias, snapdragons, pansies to name a few.
Once the fruit from our apple tree starts falling to the ground, as stealthy as can be, he sneaks into the yard in search of apples. Here he's checking to see if the coast is clear.
Once he locates an apple, he sometimes takes a few bites right where he found it, gnawing away for a moment or two before looking toward the house to make sure he's still dining incognito. He then waddles quickly back to the edge of the brush in case he needs to make a quick getaway. If not disturbed, he'll finish his meal there.
He always seems to relish the apples, and this one is no exception. He's really getting into it. Maybe he was too into it...
as it appears some of the apple went down the wrong pipe!
My earliest memory of this place dates back to the mid-fifties. I was Joshua's age when I saw my first red fox, a vixen with her young in this same locale. Because it was so close to home, only once did he have the opportunity to ask, "Are we almost there?" Once out of the car, he was like the proverbial kid in a candy store.
Everywhere he looked there was so much to see, much of it new to him.
This yellow and black argiope spider has set up its web in an ideal spot at the edge of a small stream. It had three dragonflies in its web, each encased in individual homespun "cocoons" and enjoying the fruits of its labor. Joshua wasn't too happy about this -- he likes dragonflies!
This is the same spider, different angle.
Walking along the stream, something has gotten Joshua's attention...
A bullfrog, floating on the water, a big green frog, doin' what he oughta! The frog just didn't plan on a curious 5-year-old walking into its domain.
Realizing the water was well over his boots, he looked for another spot to cross...he really wanted that frog.
Fortunately for the frog, Joshua wasn't able to find a spot shallow enough to cross and he looks slightly dejected as he grudgingly admits defeat.
An uninvited grasshopper flies in to cheer up the youngster...oops! Where'd he go?
Got 'im!!!
There were plenty of sights Joshua easily understood...
And others which he did not...what was the snail doing three feet off the ground?
He learned that some critters are best left alone...
while others afford a good chase.
See what I mean?
Joshua hardly did more than glance at the butterflies...
and he paid no attention to the asters whatsoever...
All things considered, it was a great outing, both for a young man and his grandfather!
The two youngsters in the photo above have their eyes riveted to something in the flower bed behind their home. That's Joshua on the left along with brother Tim. Whatever it is they're watching has also gotten the attention of their father. Five-year-old Joshua has a fascination with the smaller members of the animal kingdom, particularly insects. Crickets and grasshoppers are old stuff for Joshua, and he has on more than one occasion caught dragonflies with his bare hands, been stung by bees, etc. ... that may be one reason why he is ordered to empty his pockets before coming back into the house.
While Joshua has spent countless hours in the backyard catching a variety of bugs, this praying mantis was a first for he and his brother. As with the rest of his insect discoveries, he began to move in for a capture -- until he was warned not to. See that brown claw? It's sharp and lightening fast.
The praying mantis has long been considered good to have around your shrubs and garden plants for pest control. They reportedly have a healthy appetite for insects but they are actually quite adept at taking small animals as well. If you care to, Google mantis vs. snake or praying mantis vs. hummingbird and you will see how truly deadly they can be.
The mantis obviously had enough interaction with humans and decided it was time to turn tail and head back to the brushy confines of the flowerbed.
Back among the greenery, the mantis blends in well, all the better to ambush its intended quarry.
To no one's surprise, Joshua was totally enrapt with the praying mantis. I told him that, if he let the mantis be, I'd take him to a really great place to see "all the critters he enjoys so much." That turned out to be an equally fun outing for both of us and I hope to have it posted tomorrow.
It was three summers ago when I liberated a few dozen large tadpoles into the meadow stream pictured above. A stone's throw from where I took this photo is a narrow ditch that, when filled with water, empties into said stream. Well, on the day I'm speaking of, I saw a heron take flight from the ditch.
Because there was no water in the ditch at the time, I thought I'd investigate. Turns out there was a wee bit of water in the form of three small puddles. Several small surface boils indicated there was something living in the roiled water. Because the water was discolored, I assumed it was small fish in the puddles. The heron had been having itself a feast and judging from the tracks in the mud, so did the raccoons. We live not far from here so I went home and returned with a plastic five gallon pail.
As I first mentioned, the puddle captives turned out to be tadpoles -- sort of. They were actually frogs with tails. And because they hadn't fully "morphed" into frogs, they were not ready to breathe on land. Thus they were confined to the small puddles and easy pickings for anything that found tadpoles tasty.
As you can see, there is no shortage of either water or aquatic vegetation in the ditch this summer. When I first took these photos I gave no thought to that day three years ago
But take note of the bullfrog's position in successive photos. It had its back to me, then it seemed to turn for a sideways glance before fully turning in my direction. Maybe its me, but, I've read where it takes two to three years for bullfrogs to reach maturity.
Could this be one of the survivors of that hot summer day? And do bullfrogs remember? After all, by the time I took the last photo it did seem quite friendly...maybe even smiling a little!
Saturday afternoon we were on our way to East Shelby when we spotted upwards of two dozen egrets wading the Upper Stafford Marsh on the Oak Orchard Wildlife Management Area. I regretted not having a camera along, but vowed to have one the next morning.
It was 9 a.m. today when we pulled into the overlook on Albion Road and, fortunately, the egrets were still there. There are 17 great egrets in the above photo, with several more outside of the lens angle.
I've not seen such a gathering of the large wading birds before, not even in South Florida. Whether they were stalking small fish, frogs or reptiles, I couldn't say but something to their liking must have been plentiful in the shallow marsh.
Normally, great blue herons are the largest wading birds in the marsh. While the blue heron is nearly identical in size to the great egret, on this day it was certainly in the minority.
Our rose of Sharon bushes range in color from red and white to lavender and red and one is pure white. We started them as small shoots no more than 18 or 20 inches in 2004. Today the largest stretch nearly nine feet. That's not surprising, being that they were planted over heaps of compost.
There was a time when most of the wildlife attracted to the rose of Sharon seemed to be Japanese beetles, which I crushed with relish. As the blooms became more prolific, the visitors became more pleasing to the eye. That was especially the case this year with butterflies, bees and hummingbirds visiting on a regular basis. In the above photo, a pollen-covered bumble bee begins to emerge from a rose of Sharon bloom.
An Eastern tiger swallowtail comes in for a landing...
and spreads its wings. Don't know if it was gathering nectar or simply taking in the sun's warmth. Maybe both.
We've always enjoyed the rose of Sharon, one reason being they provide color from mid to late summer. Now, with their blooms fading, we know the summer is nearly over and the first frost just around the corner!
One look at this cardinal and it's easy to see his normally prominent crest is laid flat against the back of his head. Rather than belting out his normal cheerful tune, this guy seems to be somewhat agitated.....
Turns out he's on the attack, a bit feisty, aggressive and...
maybe even a bit territorial. Certainly hungry! Although he has a mouthful, he's eyeing a butterfly flitting past, the small white blur in the foreground.
I recall seeing a house finch for the first time and thinking that a sparrow and cardinal had crossbred.
We see the house finches quite regularly in our yard, never very far from the safety of dense cover.
This great egret is stalking the shallows of upper Stafford Marsh off Albion Road in Oakfield.
Except for the color of the stilt-like part of their legs, the great egret is nearly identical to the great white heron. The legs of the egret are black, the white heron's are gray-green.
Like the cardinal in the first three photos, this blue jay's behavior is something I've not seen before. He's perched on the edge of an old canoe we've filled and turned into a flower garden. Normally quite noisy, this guy never made a sound although his beak was wide open the entire time. The feathers of his head, back and neck are clearly tufted, while his wing and tail feathers are fanned for promiment display. The guess here is he was either trying to attract a female or scare off an intruder.
The red-tail hawk is equipped with piercing eyes that can spot prey from a considerable distance and spot minute movement in tall grass and underbrush. There is much to be said about his hunting ability, but an encounter with a red-tail up close is quite telling -- his weaponry speaks for itself.
That hooked bill is keen-edged like a razor and his lengthy talons are needle sharp. They are more than a match for the small mammals he hunts. You can add smaller birds and the occasional reptile to his menu and you still have but a partial list.
Despite being such a lethal and ominous-looking raptor, the red-tail is something of a romantic. He's monogamous and the courtship flight involves both the male and female soaring high on thermal currents while gliding in wide but separate circles high in the sky.
Claudia and I took these photos at the Hazard Campbell project on the Oak Orchard Wildlife Management Area.
Whereas the orioles were easy to photograph, the bluebirds were quite timid, refusing to remain still for more than a moment or two and making photo opportunities difficult.
While the orioles nested in the woods to the north, the bluebirds -- at least two mating pairs -- nested in the small woods bordering the southern edge of our property. They made repeated forays to our mulberry tree, appearing to take a single berry and fly back into the woods. Moments later they would reappear on a dead limb of a white ash (as seen in above photo), making a brief stop before flying in for another mulberry.
We had ample bluebird sightings in our backyard this year. While I was aware they were not around in great numbers, until now I've never realized how shy and retiring they are. Claudia and I have seen more bluebirds during the summer of 2011 than all previous years combined. Maybe it's nature's way of making up for a less than pleasant winter!
Throughut the summer there was no shortage of colorful songbirds around our home. The orioles were among the first arrivals, showing up when the apple tree blossomed. They busied themselves searching the small white blooms for food, flitting from branch to branch in their quest for tiny insects.
Perched at the very top of the tree, this oriole took time to preen.
Looking for bugs
Casting a wary eye
Belting out a few notes
Multiple mating pairs nested in the small woods along the northern edge of our property. Their pleasant song was often heard anytime during the daylight hours.
It's a place teeming with wildlife, a bit of a birder's paradise. It's 400 acres of accessible open space where local residents can walk their dogs, go for a jog or just enjoy a stroll along well-maintained paths.
Some might call it a park.
We call it the Batavia Wastewater Treatment Plant.
A lot of area residents, even if they know of the plant, may not know it's open to the public, or appreciate its natural aesthetics.
"It's great that the city is able to provide access to this great resource," said Tom O'Donnell, president of the Buffalo Ornithological Society. "It's a unique place to view waterfowl and shore birds."
Some 180 different species of birds have been spotted on the property during its 21-year history, including herons, loons, egrets, hawks, terns, swans and, of course, a variety of ducks and geese.
Birders from throughout the region know of the facility and have even traveled from as far away as Finland specifically to go birding in Batavia.
What makes the plant unique is the lack of reeds and trees between the birder and the birds, said O'Donnell. The vantage point, with the raised berms around the lagoons, give birders an exceptional angle to view waterfowl and shore birds.
It's tempting to call the fenced-in treatment plant a bird sanctuary, but it's prime function is to treat the city's effluent and turn it into something environmentally safe to pump back into the Tonawanda Creek.
The process is all natural -- no chemicals -- and it takes six to nine months for a molecule of water to pass from the facility's mechanical screen to the gravity outflow pipe near the pedestrian bridge at Walnut Street on the Tonawanda.
According to City Manager Jason Molino, the treatment plant is the largest lagoon system east of the Mississippi.
"That plant is a resource that I don’t think people understand," Molino said following a city council meeting last week. "It’s a special plant. It’s 400 acres. It doesn’t use chemical treatment. It’s natural treatment, so there’s no chemical cost. Only four people run it, seven days a week. You find me a sewer plant that has low labor costs like that, low treatment costs -- that's why our sewer rates are some of the lowest in Western New York."
And the plant is paid for. A combination of federal grants and municipal bonds helped get the plant constructed and the bonds are all paid off.
It even generates a little revenue (besides sewer-rate fees). A contractor pays up to $6,000 a year to harvest fat head minnows from some of the ponds. The minnows were brought in to help balance the treatment of the water, and while birds feast on the little fish, they breed faster than even the hungriest herons can consume them.
The plant's natural treatment process is not without precedent, according to Rick Volk, chief operator of the wastewater plant.
"The idea of lagoon treatment is as old as Egypt," Volk said. "What we did in Batavia is take a system that is as old as Egypt and apply new technology."
From 2.5 to 3.5 million gallons of raw sewage arrives at the plant daily (capacity is 5 million gallons per day). It is pumped into a screening process that removes everything larger than a cigarette butt, then goes through an aerated grit chamber to remove sand and dirt (this is the one part of the plant that produces any real stench).
After screening, the effluent is pumped into aerated ponds. The ponds provide oxygen treatment that consumes matter in the wastewater. Air is pumped into the water by 200 horsepower compressors. This process takes about a month.
The aerated ponds are popular with ducks who can be found by the dozens either in the water or resting on the long, black aeration pipes that float on the surface of the water.
The wastewater is then fed alum to assist in phosphorus removal as it flows into two secondary ponds. The 45-acre ponds are up to 8-feet deep where biological activity and settling removes more waste. The process takes up to 42 days.
Next, a lift station hoists the water up above the four tertiary ponds, which are from 25 to 35 acres each and have an adjustable depth of 3 to 12 feet. At this point, most of the suspended solids are removed.
This is where you'll find minnows and the waterfowl who feed on them, as well as a variety of other birds flitting through the air, from northern flickers to least flycatchers.
The final step on a molecule of water's journey is to pass through one of three wetlands -- ponds with reeds and other aquatic plants that help "put the final polish," as Volk said, on the wastewater.
The largest of the ponds is popular with ducks, geese, herons and snowy egrets.
The whole process is designed to ensure that only water that is safe for people, crops, fowl and fish is piped back into the Tonawanda.
Plant staff conduct frequent tests -- regulated by the state -- in a lab at the facility to ensure each step of the process is cleaning the waste as it should and that the final product shipped out to the Tonawanda is up to environmental standards.
Staff is on duty from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m., which is the only time the ponds are accessible to the public.
The current four staff members are about half of what the city needed to run its pre-1990s wastewater plant, according to Volk.
While not officially a park, as long as the plant is open, area residents are welcome to visit anytime during plant hours, Volk said.
Guests are asked to sign a registry in the main building, but are then free to wander the property. With permission, guests can drive their cars -- it can be a long, long walk to the tertiary ponds -- on the well-maintained gravel roads that surround the ponds.
Volk said there are times when work being performed by staff will prevent guests from driving on the roads, which is why it is necessary to ask first.
And if you go, you really want to get back to either the tertiary ponds or the larger of the three wetlands. This is where you will see the greatest variety of birds.
There's also a park of sorts on the west end of the facility, along Donahue Road. There's a small parking lot and footpaths that allow, at points, for visitors to view the tertiary ponds as well as a reconstructed wetland -- abatement for a wetland destroyed when the plant was built. The area is open to the public at all times, but no hunting or trapping is allowed.
The above photo is a soon-to-be Cecropia moth. My husband found this in East Pembroke where he works. I have never seen a caterpillar like this before so I did some research on Google.
The scientific name for this creature is a Hyalophora cecropia, which is North America's largest native moth. These caterpillars molt four times during their life span. The picture above is the caterpillar's fifth instar so he/she will be spinning its cocoon very soon.
In a few weeks, the Cepropia moth will come out of the cocoon (see picture below). Since these types of moths do not have mouth parts, they are unable to eat. As a result, the lifespan of an adult Cecropia moth is typically only 7-10 days in the wild.
I found this creature to be very interesting and thought I would share it with you!
